Cherry Popping
by Rody DiBiOrton
Summary: “But if I win… If I win, I not only get the championship, I also get—” John smirked, his jovial blue eyes glinting, “Your butt cherry.” Randy knew this wouldn't end well. Cenaton, Codiasi
1. Inappropriate Touching

Because we all know, if John could. He would.

**Title: **Inappropriate Touching **  
Rating: **M**  
Pairings: **Cenaton, Codiasi, Candy, CodyRanDiasi  
**Disclaimer: **Rody DiBiOrton—while having a funny name—does _not_ own anything. Trust us. You'd know if we did. You'd know.**  
Warnings: **If you read the summary, which we assume you did, then that was warning enough. If you get offended. Well, then perhaps you should not have read something with a summary like this. Seriously, that's just plain ignorance on your part. Thank you.

Oh. This story is Serious Humor. Romantical Humor. Feel free to laugh/gush. Whatever floats your boat.

* * *

"Uh! I'm—I'm sorry!"

Randy narrowed his eyes at the poor man, who had the unfortunate luck of bumping shoulders with the already agitated Orton. "_Watch it,_" He hissed, through clenched teeth, his jaw muscle twitching. The staff member nodded his head vigorously, darting off down the hall and nearly colliding with Ted DiBias Jr. as he did so.

"How you feeling, Randy?" The younger wrestler questioned rhetorically, patting Randy on the back in a half-hearted attempt to be reassuring. He and Randy weren't close enough to comfort each other and not feel awkward about it. _Cody_ on the other hand... Well, Rhodes was younger and smaller and just generally less masculine, so it wasn't as strange. Too bad Cody was in the middle of a match with Shawn Michaels, at the moment—in fact, Ted was just on his way to help the brunette when he saw Randy.

"I'm fine, Ted. Go help Cody, before he gets himself killed. You know, I don't like it when you leave him to fend for himself, he's only a kid." Ted noticed the way Randy wasn't bothering to even look at him, and decided the older man preferred to be left alone like most men did when in a dire situation—after all, Randy's _dignity_ was at stake.

"Yeah, I was just on my way... Well, if you're okay, then I guess I'll see you later," Ted muttered a farewell, before jogging down the hall in the direction of the ring. He supposed he could understand Randy's trepidation. Tonight Cena was going to be challenging him for the WWE Championship, but Stephanie McMahon hadn't specified what the terms would be. Apparently she simply told John to think up an incentive on his own. The thing that worried Randy—Ted presumed—was the rumor going around the locker room, that Cena's terms for the championship were anything but pleasant. Unfortunately, Randy had to accept the challenge no matter what the terms were, so that they could have the pay-per-view match, they were scheduled for.

Ted sighed, he was worried about what John may do to Randy, the DiBiase couldn't have the leader of Legacy humiliated, that would only bring Cody and him down. Speaking of which... Ted paused at the opening to the stadium where the ring lay, and gathered his thoughts, forcing his expression into one of anger, before inhaling deeply and breaking into a run.

The surrounding WWE Universe gasped in unison, as they saw him dash by, which nearly made him smirk, and he heard a few insulting shouts thrown his way. Cody was grinning from ear to ear at the sight of him, as the blonde slid into the ring with as much ease as if he had been doing so all his life. Shawn scowled at him and lunged for him as soon as he was on his feet. Of course, before Shawn could reach him, Cody had taken advantage of the older man's distraction and grabbed his arm, jerking him towards himself. He nodded at Ted and said man rushed over to grip Shawn's other arm tightly in his.

And in perfect sync—as they always were—Ted and Cody raised their right legs to stab them into Shawn's gut, shoving HBK to the mat with a reverberating _smack_, his arms around his injured stomach. As he groaned, Legacy lifted their feet again to stomp on either side of him, his body wracking with spasms after each bruising kick. When—finally—Shawn stopped attempting to get back up Ted and Cody shared a triumphant grin, as the surrounding audience crowed hollers of indignation at them. Their hands to their bare hips, the two of them didn't bother to even pin Shawn Michaels, they weren't supposed to anyway. In a few minutes, either Hunter would come dashing into the ring with a steel chair and beat them over the head with it, or HBK would sneak up from behind and take them down while they distracted themselves with goading the crowd. It was all preplanned—or, at least, guidelined so that the wrestlers had something of an idea of what was going to happen.

Well, except Randy, of course.

* * *

"Hey, Orton! What's with the expression?" Randy spun around, jerked back into reality by the boisterous voice that sounded directly beside him. There, John Cena stood, materializing—seemingly—out of nowhere, his fists to his waist and a large—slightly creepy—grin across his face. Randy tried not to recoil, and glanced away from the older wrestler, to pull his face together and put on a mask of impassiveness.

"Cena." He muttered, in his low guttural voice, running his right hand over his championship belt absently—something he did, normally, in the presence of John. "What do you want?" Cena's ecstatic, 'happy-go-lucky' smile fell from his face almost instantly at the dismissive tone in Randy's words, and he shifted to throw an arm around Randy's shoulders, as if they had been friends for years. When, in reality, they hardly ever talked—or even _saw_ each other—outside of work. Well, at least Randy never saw John.

"Aw, Randy, you don't have to be like that. Just because we're enemies on-screen, doesn't mean we have to be, _off_-screen, you know?" John tugged Randy closer, the hand around Orton's back patting his upper arm, as if that would somehow better acquaint the two. Randy suppressed the urge to tear himself from Cena's grip, the muscles in his arms tensing. John was in his_ man_ bubble. _Nobody_ got in Randy's man bubble, except for Ted and Cody, it made him feel as if he were being invaded somehow, and he inhaled deeply in a failed attempt to rid himself of the queasy nausea.

"Whatever. What do you want?" He—again—tried to sound uninterested and annoyed, while, simultaneously, glaring at the wall in the opposite direction of Cena. He couldn't let John see his face, especially with the close proximity the two were in, the older wrestler would notice something was wrong for sure. And Randy wasn't about to admit to John Cena, of all people, that he was horribly anxious at the thought of what John's terms could _possibly_ be, especially when they had every RAW wrestler in the locker-room buzzing with rumors.

"Well, I _do_ have to challenge you for the championship in about five minutes… _You nervous?_" The underlying implications that laced through John's words—the 'I-know-something-you-don't-know' feel—made Randy want to double over and vomit all over the tiles of the hall floor. Of course, he controlled his rolling gut, and eyed Cena wryly. You could call Randy anything, but you _couldn't_ call him a bad actor. He was actually quite skilled in hiding his true feelings. At a distance, anyway.

"I don't _get_ nervous, Cena. Especially when I'm getting in the ring with someone as irritating as you. I'm just worried about Ted and Cody, that's all," Randy lied through his teeth, grateful for his intuitive mind when it came to excuses. John chuckled at his words, and lowered his arm to the middle of Randy's back—instead of his shoulders—in order to pat him in what seemed to be an attempt at a comforting gesture. Randy scowled, John was just as bad at this 'comforting' thing as Ted was. Where was Cody, when he _really_ needed the comfort?

"Don't worry, Randy. I'm sure your boy-toys are doing fine. DiBiase can take care of himself and… Well, maybe Cody's _slightly_ incapable, but, I mean, that's what Teddy's for, right?" John's arm tensed around Randy's back, as he laughed a little to himself, attempting to stifle it with his unoccupied hand, his eyes watching The Viper through the corners of his eyelids. Randy narrowed his own gray tinted orbs at Cena, subconsciously clutching his belt tighter to his chest as he did so, and silently wondered if John's last comment was a jab as his Legacy team's sexual orientation. Sure, Cody was slightly childlike and effeminate, but it was just because of his age, he was the youngest member of the RAW roster, after all. Randy was positive once the brunette reached a certain age, he would fill out and become as big in stature as his teammate, Ted. But for now, poor, innocent Cody would remain the butt of nearly all the gay jokes the RAW staff had to offer.

"Ted's just protective, alright? The two aren't gay or anything," Randy informed, after clearing his throat to gain the older man's attention. John eyed him calculatingly—his arm, infuriatingly still wound around Randy's back, lowered absently to Orton's waist as he studied The Legend Killer's face carefully. Randy didn't seem to notice John's stare or his arm, and simply returned to avoiding Cena's gaze, opting for staring at the tiles he had earlier wanted to puke on.

"Yeah, well… It's not like I'd have a problem if they were gay or not. I mean, I don't really care. You gotta admit, they'd make a good match, together," John commented in an off-hand sort of way. As if he _hadn't_ just informed the WWE Champion that he thought his teammates looked good together—as in, _together_, together. Randy blanched, choking on his saliva, and he gaped, much like a fish, at John who had his head tilted to the side, in a thoughtful way.

"Are you kidding me?" Randy asked rhetorically, because he knew John wasn't joking, the man looked completely serious as he watched the wall contentedly, his arm still wound around Randy's waist in an absent gesture.

"Well, c'mon Randy. Every wrestler thinks they're gay at least _once_ in their career. It almost comes with the job description if you think about it…" Cena trailed off, his blue eyes gradually finding their way back to Randy's disturbed face, as the man tried to comprehend what he was telling him. Randy twitched convulsively for several seconds, before finding his voice once again, his throat dry.

"I haven't." He murmured intelligently, his gaze boring into Cena's with a strange, cloudy glaze as he entertained the idea of Hunter, or Vince McMahon, ever thinking they were gay. Ah, what a sight to behold...

In fact, Randy was _so_ preoccupied with the amusing—and slightly creepy—images toiling around in his mind, he didn't even take notice when John's hand dropped even lower than his Speedo-covered hips. Interestingly enough, he was so entranced he wasn't awakened from his reverie until Lillian Garcia's deep, exuberant voice filled the halls, announcing the arrival of, one "Randy Orton!"

But before the wrestler could move John off of him—get him out of his _man_ bubble—and make a run for the ring he was late to, he felt something _very_ strange. He swore he could feel his left butt cheek being absurdly manhandled, by a rather large hand. Yelping in surprise, he instantly pounced forward, in a primal instinct to get away from the violation. He abruptly jerked around, expecting to see a Diva smirking at him, or even a random fan girl who'd snuck in, but instead the only sight that met his eyes was John Cena. John Cena with a satisfied smirk spread across his pale face, and his right hand—previously around Randy and possibly having cupped his butt cheek—covering his nose and mouth, his blue eyes gleamed as they locked with Randy's and he breathed in, a look of pure, euphoric ecstasy roving across his face as he did so.

Randy's jaw dropped, but he didn't bother to question the older wrestler's sudden loss of heterosexual sanity. Reeling with sick nausea, he, instead, pivoted on his heel and made a mad dash for the ring. He _had_ to get away from Cena, from the sinister tension that filled the air and from—well, from where he had just gotten _groped_, by a _man_. He shuttered violently, as he unwillingly relived the feeling of his poor abused butt being squeezed by none other than John Cena, himself. Randy swallowed down the puke that threatened to hurl itself out of his mouth, once again, as he came up to the entrance of the stadium, his song 'Voices' blaring loudly in his ear drums as he tried his hardest to rid himself of his completely mortified expression—he couldn't let the cameras see—unfortunately, he was finding the task ridiculously hard to accomplish.

But he had to go out there, whether he was prepared or not—definitely _not—_and clenching his toes, fingers, teeth and buttocks, Randy marched out with his usual air of dignity and his customary lanky gait. Or well, tried to. Instead, he looked more like an old man, who's spine was made of licorice. He heard the stifled giggles of the surrounding crowd, and the raised eyebrows of Lillian, and the others as they watched him stomp awkwardly towards them.

Randy inhaled deeply, as his entrance music stopped, attempting to slow his violently beating heart, he was nervous and confused and disturbed and—Today was just _not_ Randy's day. Of course, his mind was _so_ preoccupied with self-pity and fear and vomit-inducing thoughts, the fact that he was six seconds away from sharing the ring with the absolute _last_ man he wanted to see at that moment, had conveniently slipped his mind.

And then, the music began. The tongue rolling R, and the soprano pitched beats of John Cena's entrance song filtered through Randy's ears. He nearly had a schizophrenic seizure on the ring mat.

_

* * *

_

A few minutes earlier:

"You did great Ted!" Cody's rambunctious voice reverberated off of the cavernous hall way, as he and Ted DiBiase made their way towards the medic-room, in order to get their minor injuries cleaned up. Ted flashed a grin in Cody's direction, dragging his forearm across his face to wipe away the layer of sweat that had formed.

"_I _did great? You did _awesome_, Codes! Just like always. If you keep this up, we'll be in the wrestling Hall-of-Fame in no time," Ted encouraged, throwing his arm—wet from perspiration—around his best friend's shoulders, smiling at the familiarity of the gesture. Cody snorted, shaking his damp hair in an attempt to rid it of its saturation.

"Yeah, right. You were way better than me, and you know it," He informed, as if the fact were the most obvious thing in the world. Ted narrowed icy blue eyes, and he tensed his arm around Cody's neck.

"You think you're funny, Codes? Don't disagree with me. If I say you were awesome back there, even better'n me, than you _were_, got it?" Ted expressed, irritated with Cody's denial, but too exhausted to berate the younger man with his fist. Cody pouted, a frown furrowed across his brow.

"Fine. If you just _have _to be worse than me, then whatever. I don't even care anymore," He muttered, exhaling harshly as he stumbled over his own boots due to the distracting conversation between him and Ted. His fumble caused the older DiBiase to nearly fall on top of him, as the two injured wrestlers struggled to keep their footing, warm rushed breaths washing over the napes of each others' necks.

It was quiet as they tediously supported each other's weight, and limped along. The silence was welcomed though, and Cody sighed contentedly. He enjoyed these moments of his career. When it was just Ted and him, carrying each other's burned out bodies, with nothing between them but the quiet hum of the crowd that twittered around the ring, like a bunch of overexcited children. It was calming.

"…I'm just worried about Ted and Cody, that's all."

The two Legacy members instantly jerked from the comfortable reverie they had been occupying, at the sound of their names, echoing hollowly from around the corner. Cody and Ted exchanged glances, before shuffling over to the aforementioned turn, and peering around. Cody—being shorter than Ted—acted as a support for the older, more battered and bruised—he'd been knocked upside the head a few too many times with the chair—wrestler, who, in turn, was grateful and allowed his hands to grip Cody's shoulders as they pressed as close to each other as humanly possible. In order to _camouflage _with the wall.

Their curious eyes met with the strange sight of John Cena and Randy Orton standing obscenely close together, John's arm wrapped comfortably around Orton's shoulders as they faced the opposite direction. To the young Legacy members' ultimate relief they saw that Randy didn't seem particularly happy with the situation, and they quirked their ears to be sure and catch the whole of the older wrestlers' conversation.

"Don't worry, Randy. I'm sure your boy-toys are doing fine. DiBiase can take care of himself and… Well, maybe Cody's _slightly_ incapable, but, I mean, that's what Teddy's for, right?" John's comedic voice chuckled.

Cody huffed slightly at this. How _dare_ John—of all people—insult his capability?! He was perfectly able to take care of himself! Ted only helped because… Well, Cody was _positive_ Ted had a totally reasonable excuse for… It must be because…

Rhodes frowned. He couldn't think of any reason Ted would want to help him all the time when Cody never reciprocated such actions. Because he knew Ted didn't need his help, he _knew _Ted could fight his own battles.

Wait. But then, didn't that mean that DiBiase didn't think Cody could hold his own in a match without his help?! Cody's frown deepened, causing creases across his forehead and he shifted his attention away from the sight of Randy and John standing—strangely close—to glare up at Ted.

"_Hey, Teddy!_" He hissed under his breath, so as not to give way to their hiding place, Ted glanced down, slightly taken aback by the accusing, narrowed eyes being shot up at him from the slight form of Cody Rhodes. "_Do you think I'm too weak to fight for myself?!"_ As Cody shot the accusation at Ted, his heated breath blew in short bursts up into the blonde's face, and said wrestler flinched, suddenly all too aware of how close the two were standing, pressed against the wall.

But before he could attest to what Cody had said, Randy's voice caused them both to return their gazes to the two more experienced wrestlers farther down the hallway. "Ted's just protective, alright? The two aren't gay or anything." The Viper's low, drawl growled, suddenly defensive. Ted raised an eyebrow. Were John and Randy questioning his sexual orientation? …Now that's just _weird_.

Cody scowled. What kind of sick conversation were _they_ having? He and Ted never talked about _they're_ homosexual tendencies! Not that they had any, but if they did Legacy wouldn't gossip about it. At least, not really. Besides, Ted and he were as straight as a ramrod! Cody nodded his head resolutely in assurance, his black hair tickling Ted's chest as he did so.

Ted cringed again, instantly flinching away, only to hurriedly press himself to Cody once more so as not to fall onto his back in his lopsided stance due to his current exhaustion. He _really_ hated being this close to Cody. But before he could demand that the young Rhodes not move his head again, John's voice filled the quiet hall. "Yeah, well… It's not like I'd have a problem if they were gay or not. I mean, I don't really care. You gotta admit, they'd make a good match, together."

Abruptly, all of Legacy blanched simultaneously. Cody nearly smacked his head into the wall from the force at which he slammed forward, due to Ted's sudden loss of ability to stand, as the blonde all but collapsed onto the smaller wrestler, the two of them fell over and didn't catch Randy's reaction to the out-worldly statement—other than an abrupt wave of nausea—as they hit the tile as quietly as possible. Which was actually a lot harder than they had first thought, and Ted hurriedly wound his arms around Cody's head—barely preventing its imminent collision with the floor. They lay like that, for a couple seconds, wound in each other's arms with eyes squinted shut, for fear Randy and John would hear the clamor and come running.

"Are you kidding me?" Randy's voice, disturbed, but not in reaction to their fall.

Ted and Cody breathed a sigh of relief in unison. They hadn't—fortunately—been heard. Cody raised his hand to feel the back of his head, dangerously close to having smacked the tile, and grinned up at Ted with grateful admiration. He watched as Ted attempted to crack a smile in return, before his blue eyes widened and his face reddened. Cody, confused at the sudden change in attitude, opened his mouth to ask is he was alright, but Ted immediately released him—instantly retracting his arms and darting to the opposite side of the hall, his chest heaving. Rhodes cocked a black eyebrow, but before he could demand to know the reason behind Ted's odd behavior, they heard John's tumultuous voice.

"Well, c'mon Randy. Every wrestler thinks they're gay at least _once_ in their career. It almost comes with the job description if you think about it…"

Ted and Cody eyed each other warily, Cody in suspicious puzzlement and Ted in fear of his own desires, before their curiosity of the happenings between John and Randy overrode their apprehensive stares and they hurriedly pounced over to the edge of the corner. Peering cautiously around the plaster, they saw Randy's rigid form, Cena's arm peculiarly wound around the Orton's waist, in a gesture that looked more like a hitting-on-you gesture than a friendly-comfortable man-hug.

Cody narrowed his eyes at the offending arm. How _dare_ John Cena—the annoyance—touch Randy as if they'd been friends their whole life! Cody had known the older man for three _years_ before he even let him in his _man bubble_ let alone_ hug_ him! …Not that Cody wanted to hug Randy or anything, it just made his blood boil seeing the man accept John, when he'd been working his hardest to get his approval.

The young Rhodes obviously didn't notice the thickly tensed muscles that lined Randy's shoulders as he tried his hardest to get as far away from Cena as humanly possible without physically ripping himself from John's grasp.

"I haven't," Randy muttered, after a moment passed between the two, and Cody could practically see the distraction in his voice, as the Orton lost himself in his own inner musings, oblivious to the three wrestlers eyeing him, all for very different reasons. Cody fumed, once he caught notice of John's leer, his dark blue eyes boring into Randy's skull with a calculating air. …Okay, Cody was jealously protective. But at least he was man enough to admit it. Because really, who the heck did John Cena think he was, openly gazing at _his _mentor like that?!

As Rhodes inwardly seethed, his fingernails digging into the white plaster, Ted leaned over him attempting his hardest to ignore the way the younger wrestler's small back chafed against his own sweat drenched chest and trying to focus his attention on Randy Orton. He mentally cursed himself for being suddenly so distracted by his younger partner's presence, every time Cody inadvertently grazed against him it left a trail of agonizing fire in its wake that made his face grow red and perspiration instantly appear across his brow. Which was strange, because he'd known Cody since they were kids—they practically grew up together and he'd never had this sudden need to dash away, before he overheated.

It was peculiar, but the DiBiase found he sort of _enjoyed _the heat… Ted shook his head sharply, as if that would help to clear his head of the disturbing thoughts that plagued his mind.

Suddenly he felt Cody's elbow jab into his abs, and he flinched hoping to God he hadn't said anything aloud, but when he shifted his gaze to his teammate's face, he saw that Cody's eyes were staring with wide, astonishment, in the direction of John and Randy. Immediately, Ted jerked his head up to see what had caused Rhodes' slack jawed stare, and he looked just in time to hear Lillian's voice echoing throughout the hallway, his eyes raising to greet the image of John's right hand squeezing something that no man's hand _ever_ should:

Randy's butt.

The tag-team watched in horror, as Randy leaped away from John, instantly and whirled around, with huge gray eyes as wide as dinner plates. And as Randy gaped, open mouthed and dumbfounded, Cody was about ready to slaughter something, his teeth grinding against each other so forcefully, he was surprised Ted couldn't hear. He was absolutely furious—oh-no, no—he wasn't furious, he was downright _homicidal_. What gave Cena the _right_ to molest Randy Orton?! Randy was ten—no, _six hundred_ times better than John could ever _hope_ to be. The man had absolutely _no_ business touching Cody's mentor, his friend, _his_ Randy. Cody tensed; he was going to utterly _destroy_ all that was John Cena. With a little help from Ted of course.

Ted, on the other hand, was just plain petrified. What the _heck_ was going on?! John was _gay?!_ Or was he just messing with Randy? No way, what kind of guy gropes another guy as a _joke?_ No wait, let's revise that. What kind of guy gropes another guy who's wearing nothing but a tiny _Speedo_ over his butt?! Were he and Cody being punk'd?

The two young wrestlers watched with a mixture of unnerving disturbance and enraged ire, as Randy pivoted on the heel of his boot and made a crazy sprint in the direction of the ring, not even bothering to glance back as he ran.

Once Legacy realized the horribly odd confrontation seemed to have been over—John having turned another corner and disappearing—they fell back against each other into the wall, their previous exhaustion washing over them again ten fold. Weak-kneed with anger and morbid confusion, the two slowly sank to the tiled floor, staring at each other with unbelieving eyes.

It was Cody who first gathered himself, controlling his—suddenly harsh—breathing. "Did you see that? Did you freakin' _see_ that? Cena—Cena just _touched_ Randy! Our—_my_—Randy!" The young wrestler exclaimed, finding himself struck breathless with rage as the image replayed again in his mind's eye. Ted stared at him, still slightly struck with incredulity, but as he processed the words that left Cody's mouth, he found a twinge of—of _something_ tug at somewhere in his chest at the use of the possessive to Randy's name. He shook it off, and nodded his consent in Cody's direction, his hand to his mouth as he too remembered the cursed event that had just occurred. Cody continued his tantrum.

"God dammit! I'm gonna _kill—_"

"Whoa there Coddles! Such a small guy shouldn't make such harsh threats." Ted and Cody whipped around to see John Cena standing haughtily in the direction they had came from earlier. DiBiase instantly hauled Cody to his side, his arm around the younger man's shoulders in a protective instinct, he was shocked beyond words that John was there. He most likely knew that they had seen what he'd done to Randy. Ted wasn't going to let the military-obsessed broad hurt Cody, even if it meant fighting him off with such low energy reserves and a bruised body. "What? So scared to see me?"

Ted only gulped, and he felt Cody tense in his hold. John seemed to take pleasure in the sight of the roughed up boys, as they glared up at him with defiant anxiety. He opened his mouth to continue when they didn't reply, but he suddenly heard 'My Time is Now' begin to blare through the halls, he inwardly cursed before leaning down to crouch in front of the ragged Legacy. "I'll be back to take care of you two later, okay?" And with those ominous last words, he dashed off in the direction of the ring, a morbid smirk crossing his usually obnoxious face.

* * *

"And you think I'm actually going to sit back and let you take the championship from me Cena?"

Randy delivered the lines flawlessly, he _was_ an accomplished wrestler after all, acting was in the job description. Yes, because Randy knew by word what _exactly_ was in the job description and he could solemnly swear there was no mention of _'This job entails small bursts of homosexual urges and/or molestation'_ anywhere, at all. He was positive. He shook his head roughly, to clear away any thoughts that may betray his true feelings as John allowed his knowing infamous grin to spread across his face like liquid nitrogen.

"Oh, yeah. About that Randy. I've already become number one contender, so it's a little bit late for words like that. But don't worry, there's plenty of time for whining and complaining later when I take _my_ championship from you." And of course, John's lines were also well done. Randy fought the extremely strong urge to turn tail and run once more, as Cena took a step forward to come face to face with Orton. The man was way to close for comfort, Randy could smell his breath washing over his face and he quickly jerked his head away, being sure to keep his stoic glare at the mat floor, his jaw clenching.

Randy gulped, praying his expression didn't change as he spoke, "What makes you think I'm going to agree to put _my_ championship on the line, _Cena?_" John Cena looked _way_ to pleased with the scripted lines, as he put the microphone back to his lips, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. _This_ couldn't be good.

"Because I'm going to give you an offer you _can't_ refuse." Literally, Randy mentally tacked to the end of John's lines. He knew he would have to accept the terms no matter what they were, now _that_ he was sure was in the job description.

"And that would be?"

"If you win, you get to keep your championship _and_ I'll never go after the WWE championship while its yours. I'll leave you alone Randy," John offered, with an air of nonchalance. Randy sucked in a deep breath, relishing in the feel of the air flowing down his throat and filling his lungs. He mentally prepared himself, tensing every possible muscle in his body, his fingers clenching white-knuckled around the Championship belt.

"I'm listening." He said—the written words, the two words nearly catching at the back of his mouth, as he bored his glare into the ring mat, unable to look John straight in the eye, for fear his body would override his mind and send him flying out the ring in order to get as far away as possible from John and his wondering hand.

"But if I win… If I win, I not only get the championship, I also get—" John smirked, his jovial blue eyes glinting, "Your butt cherry."

* * *

Enjoy it? Love it? Absolutely adore it?

…Hate it?

Review. Flame. Comment. Question. Concern. ; )

We love you all. Really.

Rody DiBiOrton


	2. The Three B's

Same old stuff, John's a bad, bad man!

**Title: **The Three B's (see if you can guess them?) **  
Disclaimer: **There's no ownage happening here, sorry! Maybe some bondage later, but definitely no ownage.

Big thank you for those who reviewed. We appreciate it SO much, and it makes us giddy as school girls!**  
**

**Author Note:** So yeah, the taking forever to be written is totally my fault ( this being the once 24, but now 25 yr old speaking, and not to get too much off topic but can you believe Sheamus has the same bday as me?! Totally not cool.) and yes, there was plenty of pulled punches, yelling, and not so pulled punches from my sister as she.. erm, persuaded me to get this done. So enjoy, while I go put some icyhot on the bruises!

* * *

The crowd roared out over the two men, as the camera zoomed in on the pure, horrified, _terror_ that had formed on Randy's face as John's words made his heart stop for just a second.

Which would have been all fine and dandy, had Randy _only _been acting. Unfortunately, he wasn't. In his own little world of unadulterated horror, he completely forgot about the microphone in his hand, and it fell limply at his side, as he continued to stare—slack-jawed—at John. As though he had just publicly said he was going to rape him.

Oh wait, he had!

Then, abruptly, John let out a huge, boisterous, laugh that seemed to last for _hours, _but—in reality—was only a few seconds. "Oh _man,_ Randy! Look at you! Did you _honestly_ believe that? Hmm. I don't know, it makes me wonder… _I,_ for one, can't believe he fell for it. What do you guys think?" He asked the crowd with a knowing smirk.

The voices blended together in an indecipherable yell, as once again the camera moved to capture the expression on Randy's face as his earlier terror slowly morphed into confusion and embarrassment.

It was then—when the camera was still latched on him—he saw _it._ John pulled the microphone to rest at his cheek, blocking his mouth from the camera's view—while the crowd eyed Randy—his penetrating gaze nailed the taller wrestler to the canvas as he mouthed in a nearly soundless whisper, "_Oh yes, I _AM_ serious_."

As the audience crowed with laughter at the 'joke' Cena had played on him—unawares to the comment John had made—Randy felt his stomach drop straight through the ring mat. John raised the microphone, his gaze still locked with Randy's as he continued with his signature 'golden-boy' smile, "Wow, _someone's_ a little slow tonight. I guess I'll just have to hope you're this easy to catch when we have our match, I know _I'm_ gonna be looking forward to it." John gleamed, as he wriggled his eyebrows in Randy's direction.

Randy frantically tried to pull out his own evil smirk, as the camera once again shifted over to him and he realized it would probably be a good idea to actually _use_ the microphone hanging in his limp hand.

"…It doesn't matter whatever your so-called _'terms'_ are. Do you know _why_, John? Because I'm. Going. To. _Win. _So your childish games have no affect on me." As far as ass-kicking lines went, it wasn't much, but it was all he could come up with under these conditions. And by 'these' he meant, being threatened with rape by a thirty-two year old male wrestler.

He could feel the sweat sliding down in drops along his body, as he tried to concentrate on what John was currently saying, while the microphone trembled slightly in his hands.

"Whatever you say, Randy. I'm sure your delusions will help you sleep at night. So lets just shake on this, so I can get on with my day," John commented lightly with a blinding grin as he held out his hand.

Randy slowly stepped forward, his muscles tensed with caution and fear, as he gradually extended his hand to John, who eagerly clasped it, gripping his hand tightly in his. Randy gulped once he realized that not only was he holding on too long, but Randy could have sworn he felt John's fingers lightly rub the sensitive skin on the inside of Randy's wrists, seeing as how he was in such a hurry earlier, he was currently sans his usual wristbands. And the feeling was anything but pleasant, making Randy's spine tingle in fear.

After this realization, Randy instantaneously jerked his hand back and stepped away so quickly, his boots made loud thumping noises on the mat. He stared, wide-eyed, as John's gaze twinkled knowingly, and he chuckled with amusement, turning on his heel to leisurely make his way out of the ring, walking with the swagger of someone who'd just gotten what he'd wanted.

Once he was a respectable distance up the ramp, Randy—looking a bit shell-shocked—began to follow. Hurriedly trying to pull out his signature 'viper-glare' at John's now immensely intimidating back.

Meanwhile, his mind felt like it would explode from the stress at any given second, as he tried to come up with plans to get himself, _and_ his butt cherry out of this situation _intact._

_

* * *

_

_A few days earlier… _

At the time, he had to be the most bored man walking the planet. That's what started this for John. 'This' being the fact that he tended to find immense entertainment in _teasing_ the more vulnerable of his co-workers. And by _teasing_ he may/may not mean the act of sexual molestation. But he wasn't telling. At least not out loud.

It was all about the challenge—the hunt, he thought, as he wondered who his next victim could possibly be, ticking off the many possible co-workers he could choose from. The first to enter his twisted mind was Shawn… him being old and unable to defend himself. Or perhaps Cody, small and not very smart… or, or what about Randy? Strong, cunning, and with the muscle structure of a Greek God.

_Yesssss._

Randy Orton.

He would be the _perfect_ choice. Besides, Shawn really was too old. And, of course, Hunter wouldn't be too happy about it, and Cody wasn't enough of a challenge though he certainly wasn't dismissing him completely.

John giggled like a school girl at the prospect of claiming Randy for his own, as he began to formulate his devious plot. Speaking of which it was time to remind a certain wrestler that while he was conquered, he was not forgotten.

John pulled out his cell phone and searched through his contacts, "Butt Teaser," he mumbled aloud as he began to text: "Don't forget, anytime you need a victim for your Batista Bomb, make sure you give me a call… or else!" With that done, John leaned back as a dreamy, euphoric smile formed on his falsely innocent face.

Randy didn't understand—yet—that what Cena wanted, he _got_. And the getting was always _soooo_ good.

* * *

_Present day:_

Randy made sure to walk as slowly as possible back up the ramp, partly because that's just what he did, but also partly because he was hoping not to run into Cena.

Like, _ever_.

Once out of view of the crowd, he began to lengthen his strides until he was almost running, in frantic need of his fellow Legacy cohorts' comfort as he tried to control an almost unbearable urge to scream and cry like a 4 year old girl.

He _needed _to get back to the safety of the locker room where Ted and Cody would help him find a way out of this. It only took him a few seconds of intense anxiety before he was finally in the locker room, and just as he had hoped, Ted and Cody were already there, waiting for his arrival with open arms.

--

Ted just could _not_ believe what John had dared to say to their esteemed leader. The moment he heard it, apprehensively watching the small monitor backstage, he'd quickly pulled Cody down to the locker room where they could be out of sight of the rest of the Raw roster to discuss this horribly _wrong_ outrage.

Cody would open his mouth to say something, but would think better of it, put his hand back over his mouth and resume his agitated pacing. After a few moments in this tense atmosphere, Ted finally grabbed his arm and tugged him to his side.

"Chill out man. I'm sure Randy's already got a great plan all figured out," Ted consoled soothingly, using his unoccupied hand to rub Cody's back in small, comforting, circles. Cody shot him an irritatingly anxious glance, eyebrows pulled together in desperation. Worried, for his mentor and friend.

_He looks so cute when he's all concerned, _Ted thought, before quickly brandishing the notion, with a violent shake of his head. How the hell could he think his best friend—who happened to be a _guy_—was _cute?!_ That was absolutely _ridiculous. _

But just as Ted opened his mouth to say something more to his fellow Legacy member, Randy suddenly burst into the room—the door he'd flung open slamming against the wall with a bang.

At the sight of their leader, Cody immediately dashed over to him, his voice an almost wail, "_Randy_ what're we gonna _do?!_ You can't let _John _have your butt cherry!"

DiBiase walked over to them at a much less frenzied pace, ignoring the way Cody was clutching at Randy, and said what had been on his mind the past ten minutes, "I just always _knew_ there was something seriously wrong with John. But I never thought he was _this_ messed up." He sighed. "I mean, there's always been weird rumors, but I always assumed they were just a joke!"

Ted paused a moment, recalling the many times Randy and John had wrestled in the ring, and what exactly had transpired during those matches. "Though, now that I think about it… he _does_ do that thing where he climbs up your thighs—his face practically _in_ your trunks. And he sure does like to let his hand fall in questionable places when he's supposed to be knocked out and then—"

"That's enough Ted!" Randy shouted, immediately halting the young DiBiase's recount of John's many perverted happenings as he clutched Cody's shoulder, like a stress reliever toy. For he realized Ted was right. The signs had all been there and he had just never truly noticed it until now.

The miniscule amount of hope that had been lurking in the back of his—supposedly—wicked mind went _poof_ as he came to terms with the fact that this was definitely _not_ some elaborate prank.

He felt frozen in place as panic and paranoia slowly began to claw their way into his mind. And he inwardly began to wondered: Who else might have John victimized in this way? _Had_ there been any others? Was John actually gay, or was he just pretending to be, in order to throw Randy off his game, and take the championship when he was distracted? Would John stop at just him, or would he even go after his own Legacy too? There was so much Randy didn't know.

With a determinedly uncertain air, he decided he needed _knowledge_ to win this battle. And the gears in that—supposedly—wicked mind of his, slowly began turning.

The information gathering was where Ted and Cody would come in handy. He could send them out to gather any junk that could they could dish up on John himself, as well as any wrestler who may have been a victim of his… _pursuit_ before Randy, himself.

But what Randy _really _needed to know, was why the hell John would put this pursuit of himself so public, when it didn't seem like John had ever done so before. _Something_ had brought Randy to John's perverted attention and he intended to find out whatever it was— in order to stop it immediately.

Maybe it was the Speedo… it _did_ show off his amazingly defined thighs and, occasionally, his butt cheeks, when it rode up, which was, apparently, quite distracting—as Cody had kindly informed him—but perhaps it did so, _too_ well?

It did end up wedged half way up his butt in more than half his matches, he realized with a cold flush of anxiety. _Why don't I ever wear those damn Spankies underneath?_ Randy wailed silently in his mind.

As Randy became quiet and withdrawn—distracted by his chaotic planning—Cody had noticed a gleam of something in the cubby above where Randy's Speedo's hung. His eyes never leaving the peculiar object, Cody slowly eased himself away from his frantically plotting Randy, and reached to pick up the weird shaped bottle—Ted watching him curiously.

Cody's icy blue eyes scanned the aforementioned bottle with a cocked head, as he turned it over and over again. Then those very same eyes nearly popped out of his sockets, the instant he realized just _what_ it was he held in his hand.

"Uh.. Randy?" He murmured, slightly unsure of his voice. Randy didn't move—he didn't even _blink_—at the sound of his name. Cody tried again. "Randy?" Again the man remained lost in his own morbid thoughts, a fierce frown on his face. Cody scowled, irritated. "RANDY!" He shouted, frantically waving the bottle in the air like a hobo on crack.

"What?! Cody, What?!" Randy growled back, "I'm trying to plan here, _hello?!_ Do us all a favor, and shut the hell up!" Cody instantly retracted his hand, holding the bottle to his chest protectively, a pout forming on his lips.

"_But, but…_" Cody stuttered, lower lip trembling—after all, Randy had never been _angry_ with him before. Randy, noticing the younger male's obviously distressed expression, spun around to face the door with a huff, determined to be an ass. At least, that's how Ted saw it.

With gradual slowness, Ted gently slipped a protective arm around Cody's shoulder, tugging him to his side, and rubbing his upper shoulder comfortingly. "I found this," He mumbled, tentatively holding out the bottle for his best friend.

Ted raised his unoccupied hand to carefully take the bottle from Cody as the young man sniffled, like a child who'd been wrongly scolded by his parents. Ted turned the bottle over in his hand to locate the label, and read out loud, "Lick Me Lemon Body Oil."

Randy turned around so fast, his poor brain had to be suffering from whiplash, as he snatched the bottle from Ted, who'd immediately gotten a horrified look on his face, the instant he realized what he'd read.

Randy held the bottle of flavored body oil as if _it _was the snake and would bite him at any given second. He knew for sure, that this body oil was definitely _not_ his, he'd never buy _anything _as… _vulgar_ as this. And it sure as _hell_ wasn't Ted or Cody's…

It took a little more gear turning for Randy to make the obvious connection, gray eyes growing as huge as ring posts. "Oh my God, he was _here!_" Randy instantly dropped the bottle and sank to the floor, gently rocking back and forth as he whimpered softly, coming to terms with the fact that his supposed 'safe-haven' was no longer safe.

Ted sighed at the sight before him. Orton—the man he'd revered as one of the greatest of his time—was crouching on the ground, holding himself, and whining like a baby who'd lost its mother! This was a downright disgrace, to himself and to Legacy as a group. How could he and Cody possibly continue to call this man their leader, if he couldn't even stand up for himself in his own time of need?

"Snap out of it, Orton!" Ted demanded, taking on his army-general voice. "We need to get angry! John is not going to win, you're the _Viper!_ For hell's sake, _no one_ is shadier than you! _No one_ is more fierce than you are! _No one_ can destroy _legends_ the way you can! _No one_ can lead Legacy like you can! And _no one_—absolutely _no one_—can faze the Viper. Not even John Cena."

Fortunately, Ted's little pep talk had the desired effect, as Randy slowly stopped rocking and very slowly got to his feet, a sort of fire beginning to gleam behind his gray eyes. Ted grinned. As long as the thumb didn't go into the mouth, then DiBiase _knew_ there was a chance of making Randy return from his happy place, and get down to the dirty business of fighting off John.

As all this was going on between the two, Cody had slid out of Ted's hold and stepped back over to the cubby to see if there was anything else interesting there. Sure enough—because Cody was secretly psychic—almost completely hidden against the painted wood, there was a small piece of paper, folded in half. With a satisfied smile, Cody grasped the note between his fingers and dashed back over to Randy, like a dog begging for forgiveness by offering a treat to its master.

Randy tentatively took hold of the paper, silently shooting Cody an apologetic glance, as he unfolded it and read the one short sentence scrawled across it, aloud, _"You're in my wet, sticky, dreams."_

Ted recoiled from the piece of paper, taking a disturbed step back, as Randy's eyes glazed over once more with the beginnings of full blown panic attack, at the image of John having _any_ dreams about himself Especially the _wet_ ones.

Both men were slightly distracted when Cody suddenly piped up—holding the forgotten body oil bottle, "I wonder what it tastes like." Why did Cody seem to be the _only_ one unaffected by John's perverseness?

Randy and Ted gawked at their youngest member, as if he'd just grown two heads, which caused him to defensively shoot, "_What?_ I was just wondering! I mean, I just don't see how they can make body oil taste good, that's all!"

Randy and Ted frowned at him, before, suddenly, the peculiar image of Cody licking body oil off his abs, popped into Ted's wandering mind… Signal simultaneous gulp.

Ted felt uncomfortably warm as Randy abruptly barked out, "Can we stay on topic please?!" Cody furrowed his brow.

"Uh, _we_ use a lot of body oil?" He asked confusedly, and when Randy narrowed his eyes dangerously at him, he continued rapidly. "What? That's on topic, right?"

Ted quickly came to Cody's rescue before the Viper could blow up like a Voltorb, "He means we need to figure out what we are going to do about John, Cody."

Cody made an 'O' with his mouth in realization. "Oh! _That's _what you meant…" Ted sighed. Sometimes Cody could be a little out there…

Or maybe it was all just an act.

* * *

They would need back up plans for their back up plans, Randy had decided after much deep thought. After all, considering the stakes, one couldn't be too careful. There was no way in Hell Randy was going to let John come within a ten foot radius of his butt cherry. Legacy was going to put an end to John's sick games once and for all.

The first step would be the safest one. All they needed to do was to gather all the Intel they could get their hands on, which—Randy decided—Cody would be perfect for seeing as how everyone just sort of assumed he was kind of lost all the time—due to his age—and would then willingly open up to his disarmingly cute, little pouty face.

Plus he had played his fair share of video games growing up and would jump at the chance to pretend he was a spy, hopefully. Randy debated whether or not he should send Ted to keep an eye on Cody—after all, the kid could be a little _out-of-it_ at times—but he decided against it, after all, Randy didn't want to be alone.

"Okay, put that frickin' stuff down and get over here! Ted, your with me, if John shows up, you throw yourself at him while I run for the nearest exit or door that'll lock. Got it?" Randy ordered, taking on his own Marine Corp Persona. Ted was none to pleased with how this plan was going, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Good. Now Cody, I need you to quietly ask around and see if you can find out why John picked me, and if you can find any other victims he might've had. You _can't_ let anyone know that this is anything more than a big hoax, okay? I can't have my reputation tarnished by this, this… _grossness._" Randy finished, intelligently, eying Cody with a desperate stare.

"Don't worry, Randy, I won't let you down!" Cody saluted, a grin on his face as he rushed forward to give Randy a quick squeeze of a hug, and marched determinedly out the door, his chest puffed out in front of him.

Ted, meanwhile, was worried he was coming down with something, because he'd been feeling very strange lately. He was just so damn concerned and worried for his tag team partner, like a mother hen or something. He felt like, if he let the boy out of his sight, it was like throwing him into a lion's den.

Cody _needed_ Ted—he was _sure_ of it—and Ted didn't like the idea of Cody being anywhere without him…

And he most definitely wasn't too thrilled with the idea of throwing himself at Mr. Lick Me Lemon. Shaking his head, he once again attempted to banish the rapidly circling thoughts as he stood beside Randy, who was still staring at the door Cody had vanished through.

* * *

Cody strode down the hallway feeling very important as he hummed the theme song from Mission Impossible under his breath. Randy had graced him with a task that was not only extremely vital to their mission, but also very important to Randy himself. And the thought that Randy trusted him enough to give him this extremely important task, made Cody's heart swell with pride.

Then Cody shivered, John could be seriously scary when he wanted to be. And it was now he and Ted's job to protect their mentor from the fiendish ways of Cena, like gathering information. Which is exactly what Cody should've been doing by now. But where to start?

Cody halted at a corner in the hallway, glancing back and forth in careful thought as to which way he should go. But before he could make up his mind, however, The Miz strode around the corner, saw him, and came to a stop in front of the younger wrestler, his traditional smirk gleaming on his face and the U.S. belt slung over his shoulder.

"Well, well what do we have here? What's little Codykins doing away from his handlers? Decide to distance yourself a bit have you? I don't blame you a bit of course." Miz paused, as if thinking over his next words carefully, before grinning like a business man who knew something. "Tell ya what, I'll let you be _my_ errand boy if you ask me realllly nicely!" Miz said in his trademark annoyingly arrogant voice, walking in a calculative circle around Cody, as if he were making sure the boy was fit to be his errand boy.

Cody growled. "Why don't you shut the hell up, Mike! Just because no one wants _you_ around, doesn't mean _I'm_ not wanted. Besides, I'm just getting a bit of fresh air. Intense planning session," Cody stated, his voice quieting, as if he were relaying something no one was supposed to know about, while shooting the Miz an attempted copy of Randy's signature Viper glare, which didn't work as well as he'd hoped, what with his pouty lips, and not-quite-made-for-evil face.

"As long as it takes _you guys_ to think, you'll be planning all night, so I guess you _do_ need some air. Might even make those half dead hamsters run a bit faster in their wheels, also known as your brains, if you know what I mean!" Miz finished with a loud laugh at his own wit.

Cody was extremely annoyed at this comment—no one insulted Randy, out of story-line—but attempted to brush it off, since he was currently in the process of trying very hard to think of a way to subtly complete his mission—gathering info.

It was even tougher to think, thanks to the anger Miz had caused, as well as the Mission Impossible theme song that was still playing in the back of his mind. He glanced up to see Miz staring at him strangely and then, at once, realized he was swaying slightly to the beat of the song.

Cody quickly stood up straight, adjusting his Speedo, and crossed his arms across his chest. "So… that John Cena's kind of a freak, huh?" He commented lightly, feeling more than a bit lame.

Miz didn't seem to notice the—complete and utter—lameness, as he was always interested in insults and gossip—_almost_ as much as he was interested in himself—and he quickly said, "Oh yeah! You wouldn't see me joking the way he did with Orton earlier, what a dick. I mean, I haven't been here as long as some, but it doesn't take a genius to know that guy isn't all okay up _here._" Miz indicated with a jab at his temple.

And Suddenly it hit Cody like a brick wall.

An idea! And it came from The Miz, who would have guessed?

"Yeah, completely," Cody agreed as he moved to lightly slap The Miz on the back, appreciatively, "So, uh, I'll see you around. Later dude." And he hightailed it out of there.

Cody had no time for pleasantries, he was on a mission! To find some old guys, unfortunately, but hey a mission was a mission, right? After all, the longer they'd been in the business, the more they'd know. _Now_… who would know the most about Cena?

A few minutes later Cody was standing outside one of the doors to one of the private locker rooms, taking a few deep breaths. Inhale… Exhale…

He had to prepare himself, these two always seemed a bit not-all-there, probably due to spending so many years in the business. One could never tell what they'd do or what they'd come up with in their batty little minds. At least, that's what Cody thought.

So, one more deep breath and then Cody quickly raised his fist to knock on the door, only to have it jerked open the second his knuckles made contact with the wood. He hurriedly pulled his hand back.

"I'm _so_ glad you finally knocked. I was getting a bit afraid you were making out with my door, or having some solo action in the hall. Seriously. The creepy breathing needs to go," Shawn Michaels said with an easy smile as he looked around the hallway quickly.

Behind him you could see the colossal form of Triple H leaning against the wall, half in the shadows, with his usual frown on his face. "So since we've established you're not having a special moment in our hallway, whad'ya want?"

Cody stood there for a second with his mouth in its trademark open position, as he scrambled to get his thoughts together and make his, suddenly dry, mouth into action. "I was just, uh, wondering about something—about John—I mean. And you guys just seemed like the right guys to ask." he finished weakly.

Shawn's smile dimmed a bit, "Well Cody, you've got a part of that wrong," He informed as Hunter suddenly moved away from the wall to stand behind Shawn with his arms crossed over his chest. And Cody felt the atmosphere suddenly take on a secretive, spy mission, information exchange. He gulped.

"Now if I was a little bird, then I would tell you to talk to Dave Batista. We don't _actually_ know anything, you see? If something was actually known… Well, then something might have to be done about it, you understand?" Shawn wiggled his eyebrows at the younger man. Cody raised one of his own eyebrows in reply.

"So, _wait_… you're a _bird?_"

Hunter growled and threw his hands in the air. "Have you been _drinking_ all that baby oil or actually putting it on?"

Cody still looked a bit lost, tilting his head to the side. "Well, we _do_ have some lemon kind now… but I don't think you're supposed to actually drink it like that. Maybe the bottle has directions that'll say something?" Hunter scrunched up his brow, positively furious.

"YOU ARE AN _IDIOT!_" Triple H bellowed, finding his patience wearing thin, as Shawn doubled over in a laughing fit, struggling to find his voice so that Hunter wouldn't maul the hopeless boy. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop the guffaws that danced from his mouth in time, and Hunter continued.

"Just go talk to _Dave_, you dumbshit! And if I see you anywhere _near_ Shawn or I again, in the next _twenty-four hours_ I'm gonna make you wish you'd _never_ knocked on this door! I swear. I'm gonna start getting grey hair from you buncha retards." He punctuated this statement with a door-slam to Cody's face.

Said boy stood there positively baffled for a moment, before deciding he'd better check in with Randy _before_ he went to visit Batista. Just to make sure he was doing this right.

* * *

Ted walked briskly behind Randy back into their locker room, closing the door behind him and letting out a relieved sigh.

Randy had decided he needed some sustenance for his empty stomach—lest he puke up his stomach acid—and as Ted followed him out to find some, the only thing going through his mind was: _Please no John, please no John, please no John! _

Luck—for once—was on their side and they didn't have any run-ins with any deviant wrestlers. They _did_, however, run into Evan Bourne. Literally.

They'd been on their way back to the locker room when they turned a corner, and Ted collided with the smaller man. DiBiase was still getting disappointed glares from Randy, because of the—_completely_—accidental girly, squeaky, screech he'd let out when it happened.

But hey, he'd take a mentor-ass-whooping any day over having to throw himself at—the newly found pervert—John Cena. Hopefully, Evan wouldn't mention his unmanly 'eeping' to anyone else. Besides, he had a perfectly reasonable excuse. He'd thought Evan might've been Cena, and he _really_ wasn't in the mood to get butt-raped.

Ted sighed, turning tiredly to see Randy, sitting on the bench and leaning against the wall, posture so tense he could've been a statue, and gray eyes closed as if he were only sleeping—and not pondering the many escape routes he had. Just in case. Ted felt just as anxious as Randy looked, and he inhaled deeply in an unsuccessful attempt to calm his jumping nerves. As he did so, he found himself thinking, if only Cody was there, then maybe Ted could_ actually _relax a little.

Abruptly—almost as if his thoughts had called the youngest member of Legacy—the door was swung open and in walked Cody, still decked out in his ring gear, with a strange expression on his face. Somehow, he managed to look both dumbfounded and elated at the same time. That took talent.

The instant Randy'd heard the doorknob turn, his eyes shot open in alarm and an unhealthy dose of adrenaline and dread began to pump through his veins. But he immediately attempted to calm his, suddenly pounding, heart as he saw it was only Cody. Of course, the relief was not enough to override his wired jitters, so his, "_Well?!_ What did you find out?!" came out as a kind of hissing growl.

Cody, on the other hand, was practically bouncing in his Triforce boots as he answered Orton, seemingly unaware to the older man's paranoid irritation. "Well, I figured I would ask Shawn and Hunter since, ya know, they've been around for, like, _ever_." He paused, allowing his words to sink in, as he though about what he should say first.

Ted hurriedly stepped forward—once he realized Cody wasn't continuing—and patted Cody on the back appreciatively, painfully aware of Randy's expression as it steadily grew more and more impatient by the second. "Wow, great thinking Codes! So what'd they say?"

Cody opened his mouth to reply full-heartedly, but then faltered, recounting what the two older—slightly senile—men had told him. "Um, I think Shawn said something about being a bird and Hunter was asking about drinking body oil." At this Cody frowned, finger to his lip. "Which can't really be all that healthy… especially if it's not flavored like most isn't. I mean I didn't know, until a little while ago, that it even _could_ be flavored. So maybe we should see about getting him to a doctor or—"

Randy instantly jumped to his feet, slapped his hands on Cody's bare shoulders—squeezing tightly to cease the young man's rant—and interrupted with an impressively long growl, "_Coooody!_"

Cody gulped. "Uh. Oh yeah, he just told me to talk to Batista. So, I just thought I'd check in first, before I went. Which is why I'm here now," His voice was hardly discernable, as he attempted to finish as soon as possible.

Ted let out the breath he'd been holding, once Randy released the young Legacy member, and took a step back. He _really_ needed to have a talk with Cody about his habit on rambling on and on. Randy was going to lose it on him one of these days.

After glancing at Randy and noting his thinking face on plastered on—which looked as if he were in pain or something, though, given the circumstances Ted supposed, if anyone was overworking their brain at the moment, it was Randy.

DiBiase gradually placed himself down on the bench and did some leaning back himself, as he prepared to wait however long it took Randy to tell them what would be done next. It was during this waiting, that he noticed something on the wood of the bench at his side.

It looked like little black pieces of… of _something_, like large chunks of dirt, maybe. Which was strange since the locker rooms were always kept completely immaculate. Ted squinted his eyes, examining the odd pieces.

It was upon closer inspection that Ted realized that the small bits were _actually_ bits of cloth and thread. With slow and careful movements, Ted slid back on the bench, blue eyes following the short trail of pieces, dreading what he just _knew_ he would see.

And yes, it was just as he feared.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly for an instant, before reluctantly reaching for one of the Speedos hanging on the wall. Ted could already tell with a quick glance at the polyester trunks, that something wasn't right, but it was much worse than poor Teddy had feared.

"Randy, we've got a problem…" Ted's voice was low and husky with anxiety as he stared, wide-eyed at the Speedo in his hand. Randy slowly turned towards his Legacy cohort, instantly registering the implications of Ted's statement, and he faced him with a pair of tortured gray eyes that begged him—_pleaded_ with him—to tell him that it was nothing, that he didn't mean what he'd just said.

But the only thing Ted did, was, very slowly, lifting up the trunks and turning them around, revealing the backside. Showing the completely cut away material.

Cody stood there, once again looking like a demented goldfish, as Randy ran to the other speedos hanging on the wall. A quick inspection of each showed him that they were all like that. Randy was practically panting as he quickly threw them into the middle of the locker room as though they were on fire and would burn him. It was Cody, surprisingly, who had the idea of checking their duffel bags which had been stuffed under the other bench in the room. He quickly tore through the 3 bags only to find, to his horror, that every speedo, and every bit of underwear the three of them owned, had all been given the same treatment!

So there they sat, a pile of ass-less underwear and trunks piled in the middle of the floor, as they stared at one another from across the room at a loss for words and actions. Ted had his hands on his head as he thought about the uncomfortable thoughts that kept invading his mind, and that John was obviously a master at his game and they were all so screwed. Cody was thinking about sneaking a taste of the body oil when the others weren't looking and how uncomfortable buttless underwear was going to be on his poor little behind. And Randy, well he was having trouble thinking any coherent thoughts. A thousand evil plans flew through his mind as he frantically tried to think of a way to defeat John. He kept shaking his head from side to side and then rubbing his face with his hand. There had to be a way..

They all three did have one thing in common, they had just realized that they might not make it out of this as well as they had previously hoped.

* * *

Dun Dun DUH!

Reviews are always appreciated, feel free to throw out ideas, I may not use them, but it's fun to see other people's craziness! Expect some shout outs as well =D

Don't forget to look at the title and guess (it's not hard, trust me!)

And tune in next time for some more dastardly deeds, which at this moment will include surprise attacks, really dumb ideas, and nakedness!

Cause I'm evil like that.

Rody DiBiOrton


	3. Invasion

Victims of a Bad Man!

**Title: **Invasion **  
Disclaimer: **Trust me, if I owned it, welllll… most of the wrestlers would probably be crying in fear right now.

Thank you again for reviewing! Shout outs to LegacyChick for being the first to review this past chapter, Esha for loving it (which makes me all fluffy inside), and a big thank you to Kiharu for offering 4 crazy ideas (one of which I'm using =D) and for saying I'm funny! Shiny Ryuichi Sakuma, Recco101, Marshmello, and chaingangyaoi thank you all so much, we seriously appreciate your comments and encouragement!

I have to say, that I am sorry for the long wait that was this chapter!**  
**

**Author Note:** So my sister and I were hanging out with her friends (they were spending the night) and we decide to take turns reading this story. I must say it sounds kinda creepy when you read it out loud, and then instead of saying "Mr. Lick Me Lemon" her friend read out "Lick Me, Mr. Lemon!" It was epic.

And this is why this chapter is dedicated to them, they know who they are!

* * *

The locker room was deathly quiet as the three brave wrestlers sat on the floor, solemnly staring at each other across the pile of evil in the middle of the room that was once their underwear and Speedo's.

This had been going on for almost forty agonizing minutes. No one seemed to want to be the first to break the oppressing silence and bring the reality of the situation to the forefront of their minds. They avoided making eye contact with each other, although Ted cast plenty of covert glances at Cody when he thought the other man wasn't paying attention and Cody was frequently shooting curious stares at the bottle of Lick Me Lemon body oil sitting, almost unnoticed, in an empty cubby. As for Randy, well he wasn't looking at anything, in fact his eyes were screwed shut as he furiously tried to think of anything that could possibly resolve this horrendous situation in their favor.

"Okay, you know what?" Randy suddenly started, springing to his feet. "We are _not_ leaving this room…_ EVER_! Cause then—yes _then_ John can never get in, you see? It's _perfect_!" The Viper proclaimed, desperate eyes looking between his two Legacy members, more than a little crazed and wild.

He started pacing back and forth, watching Cody and Ted intently, the likes of which had been practically shocked into submission by his sudden violent outburst, staring at the Orton with eyes as round as saucers, frozen in place.

"Uh, Randy…?" Ted began gently, hoping not to set off the suddenly unstable wrestler, who was currently in the process of exhaling heavy breaths, chest rising and falling frantically. "…You know we have to leave tomorrow morning to get to the next show, right? We really can't stay here, _forever._"

"Plus I'm kind of hungry!" Cody chimed in, thereby risking his life. Randy eyed the two men carefully, before finally seeing their point, albeit he wasn't quiet happy with it.

"Well, _shit!_" Randy cursed with an uncharacteristic pout, his boot cuffing the tiled floor in irritation. He'd inadvertently forgotten that very important fact when he was concocting his little plan.

Ted noticed Randy's cheek muscles start twitching—a telltale sign of his adamant frustration—and quickly said, "But the idea's really good! I mean, we can hunker down in here for tonight, if you want. That way we can watch each other's backs and sleep safely." Though the prospect of sleeping on the hard, linoleum tile wasn't at all inviting, Ted was willing to sacrifice his comfort in order to keep Cody and he alive. "We just need some supplies. Since we have nothing but the ring gear we're wearing—everything else having been destroyed—we'll need more clothing and," He cast Cody a look, "some food too."

The Viper stood motionless for a moment, mulling over Ted's words, before nodding his head decisively, "I can take care of that. Let me call the tech guy that lost to me in that poker game the other night; Larry, I think his name was? Anyway, I keep a duffel with some emergency stuff in the trunk of my car in case of storm-ins and whatnot, that should take care of our little problem."

It didn't take long for Randy to place the call and impose his will upon the poor, defenseless tech, who came by to pick up the keys a few seconds later. He must have been really scared, because Ted was sure he'd had to have ran pretty damn fast to get there and back as quickly as he did.

Once Randy had hold of the small bag, and the door was safely closed and locked, all of Legacy let out a sigh of relief. Even though they knew the knock at the door had been that Larry guy, they couldn't help the adrenaline that flooded their systems both times he'd come by. However, Ted was distracted from further thoughts on how Legacy had been reduced to a bunch of frightened mice, by what Randy had just pulled from his dark blue duffel.

"What the hell is _that_?" a horrified Ted asked.

"I think I like it!" Cody inputted cheerfully.

"You have a problem with my pajamas, _DiBiase?_" Randy growled, closing the distance between he and Ted with little more than a stride, his face a hair's width away from the younger man's and the garment in question clenched tight in his fist.

"Uh, no, no way! I just… didn't think they would be so… um, _pink_. Or concealing. Or, uh… Well, _footed._" Ted murmured, as he attempted to back away from the vicious Viper, only to find that the wall at his back prevented much backwards movement, though he tried vainly to press further against it.

"Well now you know, and if you even _think_ of telling a soul outside this room, I'll rip your spine out through your ass!" Randy hissed, his gray eyes flaring and his upper lip curling in a snarl.

Cody, noticing the terrified expression on Ted's face, hurriedly wedged himself between the two men, throwing his arms around them both and yelling out, "Hug time!" Randy and Ted's attention was immediately diverted, and they both paused in their confrontation to look curiously down at Cody, who returned their stares with an absent grin.

Gradually, the tension drained from Randy's posture, and he rolled his eyes with a sigh, begrudgingly returning Cody's hug. Ted did the same, forcefully ignoring the flutter in his stomach at how quickly Cody had diffused the bad situation he'd gotten himself into and at the soft, tanned skin that pressed against his bare arm and back.

A good few seconds passed, and after Cody had deemed the argument over, he released them both and bounded across the locker room in order to grab two more of the soft, fluffy pajamas, handing one to Ted.

Randy watched him like a hawk as Ted rapidly stepped into the PJ's, and began snapping the front buttons closed. He felt incredibly awkward in, what felt like, a full body suit, complete with footings. But he had to admit it _was_ pretty soft.

Though it was hard not to laugh once all three of the professional wrestlers were decked out in their snug pajamas and sitting in another circle on the floor—the depressing pile of unsalvageable Speedo's and underwear thrown to the side and out of mind—as Randy handed out the drinks and protein bars that were also in his emergency duffel. Ted's borrowed PJ-suit was only a bit loose on his big form, but poor Cody was practically swimming in his, and Randy's emphasized how extremely long his legs were, making for a comical picture. In any other situation—one without a raping John, for example—he would have found this totally hilarious.

The last thing in the duffel turned out to be a couple of thin sleeping bags, which they quickly unzipped and spread out on the floor of the locker room, covering the cool tile almost completely. After that, there didn't seem to be anything more to do but to try and get some well-deserved sleep.

The bags were large enough that no one was pressed _too_ closely to the other, and were positioned so that their feet were pointed towards the tightly locked door. Randy slept closest to the wall—"the safest", he'd said—with Ted to his left. Cody—oddly enough—had volunteered to sleep on the outside, something he never did. He, being the one to usually slumber between the two older men to prevent general uncomfortable-ness.

Ted wondered curiously about the strange decision, as the youngest member turned back and forth in search of a more comfortable position on the thin sleeping bag, but before he could do any real thinking on the subject, the many trials and tribulations of the long day caught up with him and his eyes closed of their own accord. Vaguely, he recalled hearing a soft snore from Randy before he fully succumbed to the tantalizing prospect of sleep.

* * *

It felt like only minutes, but must have been at least a few hours—if the ache in his side wasn't sign enough—before Ted slowly stirred back into a glazed consciousness. Initially, he couldn't seem to figure out what exactly had pulled him from his deep slumber, but then he was suddenly all too aware of the lack of warmth on his left side. Slowly, he turned over, still sluggish with sleep, only to find an empty space were Cody used to be.

He immediately sat up, fully awake, as he frantically scanned the locker room, his heart rate picking up, rapidly, with every instant that passed and his hands clenching the sleeping bag underneath him, in a white knuckled grip.

It was two _long_ seconds before he finally spotted his missing partner crouching by the lockers. How anyone in vibrant pink pajamas could possibly blend in with the dark surroundings so well, he had no idea. He didn't dwell on it, though, as he was weak with relief at seeing his precious partner only feet away, and unharmed.

"Cody!" he hissed abruptly, once he registered the fact that Cody was snooping around in the middle of the night. "What the hell are you doing?" He expected a full and complete explanation, but his only reply was a quick gesture to come over.

Ted looked back at the Orton, only to find Randy sound asleep with one arm thrown over his eyes and his mouth slightly open, and grumbled under his breath, as now he had to scold Cody quietly in order not to disturb the slumbering Viper. With a sigh, he reluctantly made his careful way over to his—soon to be dead—partner to see what the hell he was doing in the dead of night.

Ted took one glance at the object in Cody's hand and accidentally forgot to be quiet. "Are you freaking _kidding_ me?" he half-shouted, staring at Cody with disbelief.

"_Shh!_" Cody whispered harshly, as his hand flew to cover Ted's mouth immediately, and he looked cautiously over his shoulder at Randy's still form, bundled in sleeping bags, haphazardly thrown about. Upon seeing the larger man continuing to drift about in dream-land, oblivious to the commotion, Cody released a soft breath of relief and he slowly let his hand drop.

Feeling Cody's smooth hand against his lips had caused Ted's thoughts to scatter into minute particles around his brain and he completely forgot the cause of his yelling, as he took in deep gulps of air, and shook his head to rid it of its strange inclinations. He'd had the odd urge to press his tongue to Cody's calloused hand, and felt strangely lost and bereft with the removal of it. Giving his head one more hard shake, Ted forced himself to concentrate on the moment at hand.

"What are you _doing_ with that?" he hissed furiously as he pointed at the bottle in Cody's other hand.

"I just wanted to taste it!" Cody whispered defensively, hugging the bottle to his chest protectively, and aiming the best puppy look he could muster in the DiBiase's direction. "Just one little taste? _Pleeeease_?"

Ted gave him a considering frown, instantly recognizing the stubborn tilt to Cody's currently pouting face and knowing nothing short of an earthquake would make him forget the stupid bottle nestled in his arms. With an unenthusiastic sigh, he relented, "Oh my god, fine! Just hurry up, so we can go back to bed, _really_ Cody!"

Ted couldn't help but be a bit annoyed with his younger friend, who seemed determined to make his life much more interesting than he cared for it to be. At that thought, his mind nearly went down some darker—much less PG—paths, but he stubbornly kept it in the here and now, which was much harder than he thought it'd be since Cody was about to taste flavored body oil.

Inching closer to the carefully crouching Cody, Ted leaned next to him, against the wall, and watched apprehensively as Cody's eyes gleamed with joy at receiving permission to the task he'd been wanting to do since he'd found the bottle. He then proceeded to pop the lid off the Lick Me Lemon body oil, reverently removing the paper seal with exaggerated caution and ever so slowly, Cody raised the bottle to his soft lips, locking eyes with Ted. He gave him an overly excited grin and then tipped the bottle up, letting the oil slide into his anticipating mouth.

Ted watched Cody's throat bob as he swallowed down the oil, the young man's face betraying nothing to the body oil's taste before he slowly pulled the bottle from his lips, tilting his head slightly.

"Well?" Ted finally prompted, agitatedly curious despite himself. "How is it?"

Cody paused for another short moment as he considered how exactly to describe the thick liquid that currently coated the inside of his throat. "I don't know, it's just… different. But in a good way! I mean, I like the flavor, it's just weird because it feels all oily and stuff…" He trailed off, turning the bottle over and over in his palm. "Just try it, you'll see what I mean!" he suddenly stated, holding it out towards Ted.

Ted eyed the bottle uncertainly, or more specifically, the place on the bottle's rim that Cody's lips had just touched. He wasn't sure he really wanted to drink anything labeled "Lick Me Lemon Body Oil", but he had to admit his curiosity was aroused, and besides Cody had said it wasn't half bad, there was no harm in trying.

Carefully, Ted shifted even closer to Cody's warm self, their sides completely touching, and hesitantly reached for the bottle in the younger man's outstretched hand. As he did so, his fingers brushed Cody's, shooting a jolt of electricity up his arm and he hurriedly took the bottle into his grip, cautiously eying it. One last unsure glance up at Cody, and Ted was caught in his intent stare, as he waited impatiently for Ted to try it, readying himself in order to catch his reaction.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Ted grumbled, shooting the youngest member a reproachful look, as he took a deep breath. "Okay… bottom's up." And with that, he scrunched his eyes shut and raised the bottle, placing it to his lips, and taking a cautious sip.

Cody quickly leaned forward, as Ted gulped down the oil, his face just inches away from the DiBiase's as he eagerly waited for his partner to open his eyes, watching closely as Ted gradually allowed his tongue to sweep over his lips. "Well? How is it?" he asked, his hand moving to shake Ted's leg impatiently.

The older man growled and knocked Cody's head lightly with his elbow in order to get him to cut it out. "Dude, chill! It was just like you said. Kind of freaky because of the texture and all. Like it should be wrong, but isn't really." Cody frowned, and shook his head.

"But you didn't think it tasted bad, right? The flavor, I mean?"

"Nah, it wasn't gross or anything. It was okay," Ted replied with a shrug and a roll of his eyes at his hyperactive partner.

But before Cody could respond with something along the lines of, "I know, right?" Randy suddenly made a soft noise resembling that of a snort and the two other members of Legacy froze in their spots on the tiled flooring, as the Orton turned over onto his side and cuddled up to an abandoned pillow.

They sat as still as they could for what felt like an eternity but, in reality, barely grazed the couple minutes mark, until they were sure he was soundly asleep again. With as crazy and on edge as the Orton had been lately they sure as hell did _not_ want to be the ones responsible for waking him up. Especially if he caught sight of them holding the terror inducing bottle of Lick Me Lemon! He'd have their spinal chords in his hands, before they could even blink.

"Whew!" Cody giggled nervously, a jittery grin falling across his face. "That was _close._" He tried to keep from falling over, when his head was suddenly feeling very cloudy and elevated, yet heavy, as if he were on top of mountain, but unconscious. And soon he felt too weighted down to sit up right anymore, though he fought hard to stay vertical.

Ted nodded his agreement wearily, his eyelids beginning to feel as if lead weights were dangling from them. He struggled to keep them open as he blearily felt the solid thunk of Cody's head landing on his shoulder before falling limply to rest on his bicep.

"Codes?" He slurred, "What the…?" But then he just couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and he finally succumbed to the thick sludge that felt to be flowing throughout his entire body, slumping over Cody's unconscious form. He was so far gone in a hazy, dream-like listlessness, he didn't even notice when the bottle of oil fell from his lifeless hand and slowly began to spill across his pink fluffy pajamas.

Across the room, an ever so soft sound of metal lightly scratching metal could be heard from the opposite side of the door, practically undetectable to the untrained ear, before it abruptly halted and the click of a turning lock echoed gently throughout the locker room. Then there was the series of audible clacks as the door knob spun, sounding like a gunshot in the quiet of the room, but none of the occupants noticed.

Ever so slowly, the door began to open and the maniacal form of John Cena could be seen peering around it. When he saw the slumped forms of Cody and Ted he gave a satisfied smile at his ability to handle any obstacle in his way. Who would have guessed those idiots would play into his hands soooo _perfectly?_

Easing completely into the room, he shifted his predatory gaze over to the image of Randy's unsuspecting, unconscious form. It was time to have some fun. But just to be on the safe side, John carefully stepped over to the younger members of Legacy—raising his eyebrows at the sight of their ridiculous outfits—and cautiously shoved Ted's leg and then Cody's with his shoe. Neither voluntarily moved, though Cody's head fell from Ted's arm and onto his lap, his cheek landing in the puddle of lemon body oil. Satisfied they were indeed, unable to interfere with his plans, John returned his undivided attention back to the slumbering Randy, and crept his way over to the heap of sleeping bags the man had wound himself in.

For a moment or two, he simply stood at Randy's feet, just reveling in his innocent, soon to be rudely interrupted, sleeping. Finally, he decided on making his presence known. "Oh, Raaaaandy!" He sang out cheerfully, a small smirk on his face.

Although, the smirk faded slightly when Randy didn't even twitch a muscle, but, instead, continued to sleep soundly. A little irritated, John circled around until he was directly adjacent to Randy's face and he very carefully patted his cheek and repeated what he had just said.

Randy grumbled something incoherent, a frown pulling at his brow as he slowly opened his eyes, feeling grumpy at whatever the hell had pulled him from his much needed sleep. His blurry-eyed vision fought to register just what in the world was leaning over him when suddenly he focused in on the face of none other than John Cena and he let out a weird squawk of a sound as he frantically tried to slither away and sit upright all at once.

Randy's eyes darted around the room, in a frenzied search for his distractions, before landing on the unconscious forms of Ted and Cody and then to the, now closed, door. There was no help or escape in sight, he realized and his stomach flopped with terror.

"How did you get in here? What did you do to them?" Randy shouted as he tried to stagger to his feet, his pajamas slipping and sliding on the slick material of the sleeping bag. His struggle allowed time for John to stride forward and gently pushed down Randy's shoulder, keeping him from rising any higher than his knees.

He covered Randy's mouth with his hand and whispered, "Shh, talking time's over," his finger to his own lips. Randy could only stare, helplessly at him, wide-eyed with shock, his arms trying, uselessly, to shove the man away from him.

"Your little buddies are fine, Randy, just slipped a little something into the body oil to keep them out of commission for a while. As for your other question, well you didn't honestly think a locked door could keep you from me, did you?"

John gave Randy a slow once over, looking him up and down, before he gave a small smile, removing his hand from Randy's mouth and beginning to finger the little clasps on Randy's full-footed pajamas. "Now this is _very_ interesting."

I know I'm horrible to stop here, please don't kill me too much!

* * *

Will John molest Randy? What will happen to poor Ted and Cody? And when will we find out about Batista? Tune in for the next chapter to find out!

As always: comments, reviews, suggestions, and death threats are always appreciated! (okay maybe not the last one….. unless they are funny, then it's perfectly okay!)

Thanks!

Rody DiBiOrton.


	4. Run Away!

**Chapter Title: **RUN AWAYYYY! **  
Disclaimer: **I do not own, cause we all know the WWE couldn't handle a Butt Cherry match! ; D  
**Warning:** May make you laugh!  
**Pairings:** Centon, Codiasi... so far  
**Author Note: **Big thanks to KimberAnnBRAND, LegacyChick, Esha Napoloen, WraithRaider, Emri-May, KakashiXIrukaLover, xrazalisiousx, QueenofYourWorld, ScottIsInBolivia, and belladonnanoir for the reviews! They are much appreciated!

Randy shrieked, utterly petrified, as he hastily tried to scramble away from John's terrifying fingers, but it was to no avail, John easily caught his leg and pulled him back the few precious inches he had fought so violently for. Then, just as quickly, he shifted over said legs, so that he was straddling the horrified wrestler.

"B-But I haven't lost the match! You _said_ I had to lose the match!" Randy practically wailed, his usual impassive persona long forgone as panic nestled itself in his gut. He desperately made another attempt at escape, but the full footed pajamas and slick surface of the sleeping bags worked against his frantic wriggle for freedom.

"Come on now, Orton. This is just some fun!" John chimed, a dopey grin on his dimpled cheeks. Randy's left eye twitched at the man's visage of innocence.

"You're_ insane!_" Randy shouted, his voice betraying his anxiety, as it raised in pitch with each word and he flipped this way and that in another vain effort for escape. John's thick thighs were tight against his hips, however, and his massive lower torso kept him pinned to the hard floor, he just couldn't seem to gain the leverage he needed to get the crazed lunatic off of him.

Cena just smiled at Randy's words, and ever so slowly trailed his finger back to the buttons on Randy's adorable pajamas. Holding Randy's frantic gaze with his own, he deliberately undid the first of the many clasps that lined the front of the pj's, they practically _begged _him to rip them apart.

"Shh, shh," he said huskily in response to the small whimper that had slipped past Randy's lips, as he continued to undo the clasps down Randy's torso until he couldn't go any further due to his own body blocking the way.

Abruptly he pulled Randy's long arms to his side, and tucked them between his thighs and Randy's hips, another preventative gesture—he couldn't have Randy escaping now could he? And to further trap the Orton's arms, he quickly tugged the open pajamas half-over Randy's shoulders, keeping him constricted.

"Now it's fun time!" John chirped in a sing-song voice, leaning over his helpless victim, resting his weight on one large arm, and leaving the other free as he tightened his grip with his thighs.

Randy's body was tense with apprehension, fearful of the horrors to come as he felt John's callused hand gradually slide down to caress his cheek, brush his lips, graze his naked shoulder. The younger man was practically hyperventilating at the feather-like touches, his breath clawing out of him in short, hard gasps as he tried once more to jerk away, knowing full well the futileness of the act.

Leisurely, John carried on with his exploration, his hand continuing its lingering journey to Randy's chest, damp with perspiration. He ever so softly ghosted his fingertips across Orton's pectorals, before delicately lowering his hand to his stomach, smirking when the abs quivered under his light touch, watching Randy's face intently.

And then, abruptly, John bridged the small distance between their faces, placing a chaste, lustful kiss directly against Randy's frantically snarling lips. As he licked his own lips suggestively at the younger man, his hand pressed hard into Randy's skin, his fingers clutching his belly like a possessive claw, before they slowly dragged downwards, leaving red lines across the Orton's abdomen.

Randy nearly jumped out of his skin at the new actions of John, his nerves tingling as if they'd just been held over a bonfire. It was as he was feeling this unpleasant feeling, he realized the _direction_ of John's sensual hand, currently breaching the invisible line between "lower tummy" and "_groin_", that he resumed his almost forgotten struggle for release. He desperately threw his body from side to side as air came even more painfully into his lungs.

The combination of fear, panic, exertion, and lack of air soon caused little starbursts of color to flash across his vision resembling that of tiny fireworks, but still he did not stop his straining muscles. His mind had long since forgotten thinking reasonably and now he could only react to the threat that hung over him like a desolate storm cloud, his bare instinct kicking in as he thrashed about.

John had just grinned amusedly throughout Randy's hysterical attempts to gain freedom, finding all the struggling quite adorable, when suddenly he saw Randy's wide eyes freeze, before rolling up into his head, hiding the icy grey color that had been all but eclipsed by his dilated pupils, the useless flailing stopping immediately as his body collapsed in John's hold, utterly limp.

John's jaw dropped in disgusted disbelief as he inwardly growled, _I can't believe that stupid jerk just fainted like… like a little school girl! Big scary Viper my ass! _Now what was he supposed to do? Where was the fun if he wasn't even conscious to experience it? Well, this _sucked._

"Freaking _fan_tastic," John muttered, frown evident on his face as he released Randy's prone form, and he crumpled to the sleeping bag covered tile. He scowled at the incognizant wrestler, giving him a small kick before taking a few steps back. He rubbed his chin in irritation casting a brisk glance around the silent room, and nearly went to the door to take his leave when he caught sight of the slumped bodies of Ted and Cody against the far wall, still totally dead to the world.

"Eh, might as well make the best of this," he said to the empty room with a small shrug.

Heading over to the two he stared calculatingly, considering the young men for a brief moment, before deciding on rearranging their sleeping positions a bit. Cody's head was already inches from falling into Ted's lap, so John merely adjusted his head slightly so that he was practically having a make out session with the DiBiase's groin. Then he carefully took Ted's limp hand and placed it onto Cody's crotch, molding it into an obscenely perverted grope, if there ever was one.

His last action was to walk over to the men's bag and take what little clothing they had left. He left them a couple shirts but made sure to take all the jeans and shorts. John figured they could wear those nice pajamas a little longer. He paused once more in front of Ted and Cody, and smiling to himself, imagining how freaked out the two would be when they finally awoke, John admired his dirty work, deciding the night wasn't a _complete_ waste as he left the locker room, his devious mind whirling with more wicked plans to come.

_

* * *

_

_Some hours later…._

The first thing Ted noticed, when he was finally pulled to consciousness, was that his eyes felt very strange, like long ago nights when he'd first turned twenty-one and did some crazy partying, they felt dry and swollen and just overall horrible. Not long after that, the bad taste in his mouth made itself known, quickly followed by a headache which instantly began pounding at the base of his cerebellum. Ted knew immediately, from past experience, he didn't want to wake any further, the unpleasantness would only get worse from this point on, and he probably would have allowed himself to slip right back into slumber, had a strange nagging… _something_ not been poking at his sluggish brain. Ever so carefully he began to take small notice of his surroundings, trying to remember why he was on the floor of a locker room, and why on earth he was wearing these God-awful pajamas.

Then like an electric shock, it all came crashing back. His eyes grew so wide, they looked as if they could pop out at any moment, and he winced abruptly at the soreness that ached in every inch of his body, the pain from having been in one position for so long. He instantly remembered looking into Cody's familiar baby blues, and tasting the small sip of that body oil. He could remember Cody falling onto his shoulder and his own struggle to stay upright and alive…

_Oh my fucking God! We got drugged!_ He inwardly screeched, positively horrified.

It took another second for him to register that the dead weight resting on his lap was actually Cody and his first impulse was to check and make sure he was okay, but in that moment he noticed with a strange combination of horror and fascination where his left hand was grabbing. The smart thing to do would've been to remove his hand immediately but Ted felt oddly frozen.

He swore he could feel Cody's warmth even though his arm had long since fallen asleep and lost all feeling whatsoever. And he couldn't believe he was really allowing his numb hand to grope his best friend. That was just so wrong on so many levels, Ted didn't even want to think about it. Though he really needed to make sure Cody was fine, the boy had drank more of that hellish oil than Ted had, and then DiBiase broke through that indecision he'd created. Ever so slowly he moved his hand, ignoring the painful prickles that had started, as he dragged his near-useless hand up the younger man's entire torso. A slight shudder ran through him as he gently tapped the back of Cody's head.

"Hey man, wake up, are you okay?" Ted croaked, voice harsh from sleep, as he shook the unconscious boy slightly.

Gradually, Cody awoke, his body shifting lazily. It was then that Ted almost panicked. Somehow, he'd failed to realize until this crucial moment, that Cody was facedown on his lap with a mouthful of fluffy pajama, the very same lap he couldn't really feel yet, but despite that, there was still a very telling piece of anatomy down there. What if he had a boner? How the_ hell_ was he going to explain that to Cody?

Acting out of irrationality, he hurriedly shoved the awakening Cody off his lap, gentleness abruptly forgotten, as the younger man tumbled onto the Ted's shins.

Cody let out a startled yelp, eyes opening instantly in surprise. "What the crap? Why am I on your legs? Where are we?" He fired an arsenal of questions at the blonde, his glazed, blue eyes glancing around wildly, blinking rapidly, in an attempt to focus. It was then that Ted noticed the oil that had spilt onto his lap now covered half of Cody's face.

"The locker room, remember? We tasted the Lick Me Lemon body oil and passed out. I'm pretty sure Cena did something to it," Ted informed, mind still slightly reeling from the fact that the older man had actually drugged he and Cody!

"Oh man, my leg's cramping like crazy!" Cody shouted suddenly, struggling to get upright, his hand flying to massage his calf. "Ugh. Anyway, why the heck would John do that Ted? And how did he even know we'd _drink_ it?"

"I don't know what the hell goes on in that insane head of his… But I'm getting out of these stupid pajamas! I thinkhalf of the freaking _bottle_ spilled on me, I'm all _sticky_," Ted complained, indicating to the damp stain all across the lower torso of his fluffy pj's. Too late he realized he probably shouldn't have brought that particular topic up, but Cody seemed oblivious to the implications. He just rubbed the oil off his face with his sleeve absentmindedly, thinking hard about something else.

Cody pouted. "That man has ruined flavored body oil for me, ya know? It was so neat too!" He grumbled, brows furrowing. "I just don't see the _point_ was—" Abruptly he froze, his eyes going wide as realization hit. "Ted, you don't think…?"

Their eyes locked for a split second, Ted catching on to his implication, before in almost perfect unison they both shouted, "Randy!" And instantly they jumped to their feet, rushing on half-deadened legs over to the heap of tangled sleeping bags.

The moment their sight fell upon the older man's unconscious body they gathered a shared breath of relief. His pink full footed pajamas, were still mostly on, and they could see his stomach rising and falling as he breathed slowly.

They _did_ wonder a bit at how tossed about the sleeping bags were and the fact that Randy's pajamas were unbuttoned down to his waist. Staring at his head thrown back and his mouth gaping open, they realized he looked a bit more like he'd been knocked out, than actually fallen asleep. But neither of them gave it much thought, as Cody knelt beside Randy's comatose form, gently shaking him and calling his name.

When the younger man's attempts failed to wake him, Ted grumbled and dug around in the duffel, grabbing a half empty bottle of water. "Back up, Cody," He muttered, as Cody nodded and scooted back. With a sigh he tilted the plastic bottle, allowing a small amount to trickle out and splash onto Randy's face.

With a small sputtered screech, Randy jolted awake and immediately scrambled back as far as the wall would allow, looking frantically around the locker room like a crazed animal. When he seemed to register that there was no immediate danger, he suddenly shot forward, wrapping his arms around Ted's legs, trembling. "He's gone right? He's not here?" Randy wailed, sounding more than a _little_ hysterical as he clung to Ted.

DiBiase could only stare down at him, a bit worried, and confused as to what to do with the thirty year old man clutching at his legs. In answer to Ted's desperate look, Cody edged forward on his knees, and tenderly placed his hand on Randy's back, rubbing small, soothing circles against his skin. "It's gonna be okay, the bad man is gone now," he crooned in a babyish voice.

Randy's frightened grey eyes turned to Cody, watching his gentle expression carefully, before he gradually calmed down and tentatively retracted his arms from the death grip around Ted. Cody hesitantly removed his hand, eyeing the older man warily, making sure he wouldn't go ballistic again, as Randy cautiously got to his feet.

He seemed to be flushed and slightly off balance as he glanced around the room guardedly, seeking reassurance that the two were indeed the only other ones in it, ready to flee at a moment's notice. Finally, after he'd deemed the general vicinity safe and collected himself, he gave a sharp nod. "Pack everything up boys, we are getting the hell out of here _right now!_"

It didn't take the anxious wrestlers any more than ten minutes to gather up all their belongings and ever so cautiously exit the _once safe_ haven.

Every little sound produced a gasp and a very uncomfortable rush of adrenaline through Cody's veins, but all the young brunette could do was hang on tightly to Ted, keeping a similar mentality to Randy's—throw the DiBiase at anything remotely resembling John. Cody was pleased that Ted didn't pry him off as they meandered the empty hallways until finally emerging outside by the parking lot.

It was still pretty dark outside, which did nothing but add to the uneasiness he was feeling, the tainted Lick Me Lemon body oil flashing through his mind. Who knew that something that tasted _so_ good could be so _bad?_ Once they reached their rental, Randy dug frantically for the keys and as Cody watched, he decided he wouldn't mention that he'd kept and packed the half-empty bottle…

Randy finally found the key, tugging it out and unlocking the car, quickly popping the trunk so they could throw their things inside. Cody—having not carried anything—simply continued to hold onto Ted, as the two older members of Legacy deposited their things, before dragging him into the backseat with him, refusing to sit back there by himself. Cody didn't really want to be alone right now, the mission didn't seem as fun in the dark when his best friends were_ really_ scared.

As Randy came back around to the drivers seat, tugging the door open, he was just about to sit down when suddenly he froze, entire body stilling as he eyeballed something out of Cody's line of vision. "What? What's wrong, Randy?"

Ever so slowly, the older wrestler reached down with shivering hands and picked up what looked to be a thick, yellow book that had previously been laying on the seat. Ted and Cody both about leaped out of their seats in surprise when Randy abruptly let out a girlish scream and flung the book away from him as hard as he could.

Unfortunately, this caused the book to land at their feet in the backseat and Cody couldn't help his curiosity as he reached down and lifted the book up to eyelevel. "Butt Sex for Dummies," he carefully read out loud, seemingly unaffected by the title, before glancing over at Ted. The aforementioned man had the strangest expression on his face, as he pushed himself as far away from Cody and the book as he could get, pressed against the right car door, as if the book might reach out and grab him.

Cody quirked an eyebrow at his friend, but shook it off and turned to Randy to gauge his reaction, and he also appeared to feel the same way as he continually wiped his hands on his pants, shuddering. Cody sighed, and leaned forward, starting to stuff the book under the seat in front of him, as its presence was obviously causing a disturbance in the force.

"Not my seat!" Randy instantly shouted, watching Cody's actions carefully to be sure he kept that disgusting thing as far away from him as possible.

Cody shrugged and leaned over the still weirdly frozen Ted in order to shove it under the passenger seat. "There. Job done!" He stated cheerfully, as he sat back up and patiently waited for Randy to get back into the vehicle. When the older man still stood immobile, Cody continued. "At least it wasn't 'Rape for Dummies!'" He supplied absentmindedly, oblivious to the wide eyed stares he received from his partners.

The car ride was deathly quiet the first couple of hours as they drove out to their next location, each occupant caught up in their own thoughts, when—as always—Cody broke the silence and asked, curiously, "So, what are we gonna do when we get there?"

It was Randy who finally answered with a growl reminiscent of his old self, "We are going to find Batista and we are going to get some answers, dammit!"

* * *

The drive seemed longer than in actuality, just over a whole day on the road wasn't exactly fun, but they made good time considering and eventually managed to locate the hotel they would be staying at. Once Randy found a decent parking space and killed the motor, he turned around to prod at the two slumbering men, curled up in the backseat. "Wake up you two."

Ted and Cody slowly opened their eyes, looking slightly confused before realizing they had arrived at their destination. Randy climbed out of the car, stretching the stiffness out of his body for a moment before glancing around the nearly empty parking lot. He recognized a couple of familiar rentals but that was it. They seemed to have gotten there before most of their co-workers.

"So I have a question, are we seriously walking into the hotel in _these_ outfits?" Ted asked tiredly, indicating to the pajamas all three of them had forgotten to change out of in their haste to exit the locker room.

"Damn!" Randy cursed, scowling. "And we're gonna need some new underwear too."

After a minute or so of contemplating this new dilemma, Randy walked back to the trunk, and dug through its contents coming up with an old dirty pair of sweatpants. "Aha! We have shirts, so one of us will just have to go out and get us some stuff… And we'll just have to wear the trunks we've got on, since all the others are… _mutilated._" With that he immediately turned to look at Cody. "You know all of our sizes right?"

"Yup!"

"Good. Then you go out and buy new clothes, and Ted can stay with me again, now lets get checked in before anyone we know shows up." Randy, shooting them a commanding nod, grabbed his bag and fearlessly walked into the hotel, like a man who _wasn't_ in danger of being butt-raped by a potentially dangerous superstar.

Ted was a bit slower—a bit _less_ confident—completely embarrassed to be in the state he was in at a public place. But once they reached check-in, the congenial desk attendant didn't even bat an eye and produced a room key, soon they were on their way to what they hoped would be safety. When in the room, after everyone had settled in—tossed their things in the corner and jumped on the beds—they glanced at the clock; it was still pretty early for any of the nearby clothing stores to be open.

"Should we wash the trunks we have on?" Cody asked with a yawn, stretching out leisurely on one of the hotel beds.

"We have a couple hours before the mall will be open…" Ted said hesitantly, beside the younger man, looking over to Randy, who perched on the opposite bed, questioningly. Said man immediately fired up.

"Oh_ hell_ no! I'm not going to be completely_ naked_ under these—awesome—pajamas if that perverted _freak_ shows up!" Randy half-shouted immediately putting an end to that line of thought. "Lets just take a breather and go over what's happening at the house show tonight. That'll at least give us something to focus on until it's time for Cody to go."

And that's exactly what they did, Randy still way too wired to even _grasp_ the concept of sleep. They decided to arrive at the designated area early in hopes of locating Batista before the general craziness of pre-show began. Randy assured both younger men that he could _not_, under any circumstances, be left alone, and demanded that someone be with him at all times, because _he_ was the target.

After they'd gathered the sketches of a mapped out plan in their minds, Cody changed into a pair of unwashed sweatpants, tugged on a 'RKO' shirt, and headed out to the nearest outlet mall. Ted watched him exit the room with anxious eyes, worried for the well-being of his younger friend, while Randy simply sat on the bed, his hands over his face as he tried extremely hard to block out the images from the night before.

Cody, on the other hand, was practically worry free! Not that the current situation didn't have him feeling slightly alarmed, but sometimes having ADD was something of a blessing. He wasn't as emotionally affected by certain things as his partners were, and that sort of made him the support of the three of them in their dire predicament.

It didn't take him very long to purchase what was needed, and head back in the direction of the hotel. And as he scooped the bags up and climbed out of the car, he caught a glimpse of John Morrison and Evan Bourne talking agitatedly, and gesticulating wildly at—what Cody supposed was—their rental car. As he watched curiously, John jerked out his phone and stomped over to a bit of shade, while dialing furiously. Interest peaked, Cody made his way over to the shorter wrestler, leaning against the side of the car.

"Is everything okay, man?" he questioned, tilting his head in concern as he adjusted the bags hanging on his arm.

Evan gave him his usual goofy grin, "Stupid rental won't start. John's calling the company right now," he informed with a light shrug.

"Well, hey. If you guys need a lift to the show, we're heading there a little early to... uh, go over some things," Cody proposed, before immediately wishing he hadn't, slightly worried Randy might not agree so much with his idea. Evan was about bouncing out of his tennis shoes at the offer.

"Seriously? That would be _awesome!_ I was getting worried, I'll admit… Maybe they can take care of it before then, but if not, I will _definitely_ take you up on that!" Evan grinned excitedly, leaping forward to give Cody a huge hug. "Oh! Here, I'll put my number in your phone and you can just give me a call before you leave!"

"Okie dokey," Cody agreed, reaching in his back pocket to tug his cell out and hand it over, then switching the bags to his other hand in order to take it back. "Okay then, I'll talk to you later, man!"

"Bye-bye!" Evan bid adieu, with a slight wave at Cody's back as the taller wrestler headed into the hotel.

It took a little more bag-juggling, in order for Cody to find the key card and stick it in the slot, finally managing to get the door open. Both occupants sat up abruptly at his entrance, identically apprehensive expressions on their faces, before they registered—with sighs of relief—that it was only Cody.

Ted hurried over to quickly grab the bags out of Cody's hands, dashing to the bathroom, desperate to change into something clean.

Randy, plopped back down onto his bed, once again burying his face in his hands. All this uncertainty and fear made him worry for his sanity. Cody, now empty-handed thanks to Ted, shuffled over to he Viper nervously, trying his hardest not to fidget with his hands. "Um, Randy?"

He watched Randy's hands gradually slide from his face as the older man focused just on him, icy gray eyes staring hard at him. "Er, I-I kind of told John Morrison and Evan if their car was still not working, then, um, we'd… uh, give them a ride to the arena ifthatsokay!" He finished rapidly, stammering and stumbling all over his words as he cringed under Randy's intense gaze.

He waited, gulping loudly, not quite able to meet Randy's eyes, for fear he'd messed up, and was just about to get the verbal lashing of his life. But Randy just stared blankly at nothing for a moment, as he processed the younger wrestler's words, before saying calmly, "That's fine Cody, we should be safer in a crowd anyway. We just can't forget the mission."

"Of course not!" Cody replied, immediately happy again after getting Randy's approval, and flopping down on the bed beside the deeply contemplating man, who reverted back to thinking mode. Once Ted arrived from the bathroom fully clothed and a little bit more comfortable looking, Cody bounced up from his relaxing seat beside the Orton and started humming the mission impossible song, once again, taking his place to get changed.

When they finally reached their destination, to say Randy was extremely annoyed would be something of an understatement.

It had taken_ forever_ to get everyone together, Morrison and Evan needing a ride after all. After a good twenty minutes of loading people into the car and at last getting on the road, it didn't help that Cody, Morrison, and Evan were squished in the backseat going on and on and arguing about the stupidest of irrelevant things.

Yes, Randy let out a _huge_ sigh of relief once they'd finally pulled in to the parking lot and the other two extras left, taking their idle chatter with them. All he wanted was Cody and Ted with him, they were the only people he could trust right now. And they were a hell of a lot quieter than Morrison and Evan.

When they entered the backstage, a tech showed them where their locker room was and they went in though they had nothing to set down, having decided to safely lock away everything mildly important in the trunk, just in case.

"Should I go see if Batista's here, now?" Cody asked, practically climbing up the walls as he struggled to sit still on the bench. Ted shook his head, he _knew_ they shouldn't have let Cody have that caffeinated, Mint Chocolaty Chip Mocha Frappuccino coffee at the hotel Starbucks, but it was too late.

The youngest member of their trio, had been slowly driving Randy even more crazy than Ted feared he already was. It'd probably be good to let him go and work off some of that sugar high _away_ from Randy before he got hurt, but Ted wasn't completely comfortable with Cody being away from _him_. He screwed his eyes shut tight, as he recalled the secret he'd kept from his teammates. He didn't know what was going on in his head anymore, or _why_ he'd done what he did when he was supposed to be getting breakfast. It had been only a short detour, but afterwards he'd just wanted to bang his head against the wall multiple times. Everything was so complicated and all the over-thinking he had been doing lately wasn't helping at all. But, at least his secret was safe.

It need never come to light unless he wished it to. His two partners would never know.

"God, _go_ Cody! Just _go!_" Randy growled, waving the youngest off, as he continued to pace the small space of their locker room, back and forth and back and forth. Scenes replaying in his head, that he _really_ wished weren't playing there, torturing him with fear and the need to hide somewhere small and dark and never crawl out. He clenched his fists violently, NOBODY turned Randy Orton into a scared little pussy cat.

That was _not_ how he worked and he would defeat John if it was the last thing he did!

* * *

Once again, Cody slipped out of the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he headed down the halls. It was a disconcerting feeling of déjà vu, but luckily the over-dosage of caffeine kept the fear from his veins, and he merely continued on, until a familiar voice made him spin around in surprise.

"Do you do _anything_ besides walk around looking for people?" The Miz asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the wrestler before him. He straightened from where he'd been leaning, leisurely, against the brick wall. "At least you're not humming this time," he scoffed absently, stepping over to the boy.

Cody glanced around nervously, realizing that he'd so plainly missed him just leaning there. _Jeez,_ how much caffeine did he _drink?_ "Uh yeah, I tried, but I kept getting Jurassic Park instead of Mission Impossible for some reason..." he answered halfheartedly, not quite paying attention to the conversation as he searched for any signs of Dave Batista.

"Huh?" Mike stared at Cody, not quite sure of the normality of the kid's mental state. "I swear… _you_ three. You guys've got serious issues. Must be all the baby oil you use," he mused with a smirk, holding in a chuckle at his own joke.

"Don't worry," Cody murmured, still glancing around. "I don't think I'll ever drink body oil again. Bad experience and all that. Someone spiked it, actually."

Mike just stared with his mouth gaping in the position Cody's was more likely to be found—open like a little fish. Who knew the_ Miz_ could be rendered speechless?

"So, um, have you seen Batista around? I kinda need to… ask him a question," Cody inquired, deciding he'd better get a move on, or Randy would be angry with him.

Mike simply turned to the right, taking a few steps, and jabbed his finger at a big door, still looking quite flabbergasted.

"Oh wow, thank you so _much!_" Cody enthused, hopping up a like an Energizer bunny and bounding towards the older wrestler. Miz was immediately worried he might try to hug him, so he abruptly held his hands up, out in front of him shaking his head and backing away slowly.

Cody tilted his head at the Miz's weird behavior, before shrugging, and racing back to tell his two older teammates. He got to the locker room door in record time and tried to knock to the tune of Star Wars, so that they wouldn't get all freaked out when opening the door!

Sure enough, Cody heard the click on the lock unlatching and there stood Ted and Randy, watching with expectant, raised brows. They knew Cody like the back of their hands, and Star Wars was a dead give away, Randy was at least pleased to not have his heart leaping out of his chest for once.

"Agent Cody has successfully located Dave Batista!" He stated proudly, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, let's go!"

And then there they were, standing outside the simple, gray door that would hopefully give them the answers they so desperately needed. Randy took a deep breath, this was his only chance at finding a way around the lunacy that was John Cena. With a sharp nod, he gently pushed the youngest forward.

"Knock Cody."

* * *

I hope y'all find this worth the wait! Sorry I couldn't fit in the Batista part but it's coming I promise!

Huge thank you to Rody (aka the 15 yr old) for her awesome editing skills, I type like a bunny on crack when I get going and she is great at making it all make sense =D

-Rody DiBiOrton.


	5. Power Overwhelming

**Chapter Title: **Power Overwhelming**  
Disclaimer: **It's all in my brain; I named him Sebastian (true story!)  
**Warning:** Next chapter will be shorter, but I promise it will be worth it! Also, due to the lack of length I _should_ have it done faster…. I hope XD  
**Pairings:** Centon, Codiasi...so far  
**Author Note: **The "OMG, AWESOME" part will be next chapter, I just couldn't fit it in, sorry! But a HUGE thank you to everyone who read and reviewed!

* * *

Cody took a deep breath and suddenly grew very nervous, his knock was a bit lackluster due to this. He quickly glanced up into Randy Orton's scowling face, and hurriedly tried again, much louder this time.

It only was less than half a minute, but felt much longer to the three men forced to stand outside the door. Waiting. No one really wanted to get their hopes up too high, however, it was really hard not to.

They heard the sound of footsteps and the click and turn of the doorknob as it finally opened a mere few inches. Just enough for the Legacy to see the dark brown eyes of Dave Batista.

Randy leaned in close. "Aren't you going to invite us in? There are some important things we need to discuss with you," he said, his voice low and free of any inflection.

The door gradually opened wider, but only so that they could see all of Batista's face as he jerkily shook his head no, emphasized by his next words. "No way, man! I know what's going on and I'm not bringing _his_ attention back to me! So you just turn around right now and LEAVE!" He then frantically tried to close the door, but Randy—quick as a snake—managed to wedge his foot in, keeping Batista from fully closing it.

Ted and Cody just looked on with wide fearful eyes at the trembling mess the huge man had become. Somehow, seeing the effects John Cena's pursuit had on someone _outside_ their own tight knit group, brought home the desperate reality of the situation more than ever before.

Randy, growing irritated with the tension, abruptly threw his shoulder into the door, surprising the man on the other side into stumbling back and away. With a rapid glance behind him, Randy grabbed Ted and Cody's arms and yanked them into the room, the door shutting with a final sounding click. A sharp elbow into Ted's side made him turn around and twist the lock, thus sealing them in with the person holding the very valuable information.

Batista had staggered back against the wall during this invasion and now just stood there motionless, like a deer in headlights, as they curiously looked around the room. He knew what they saw–an _extremely_ messy hole of a place with a pathetic figure half huddled in the corner.

Indeed their thoughts had run in that same direction. Randy could only stare in horrified wonder at the very stressed and frightened looking Batista. The Viper very much didn't want to know what had lead him to this state, but for the sake of his butt cherry he had to be strong and get the info they needed—no matter what.

"Tell us what you know. The faster you give us what we need, the sooner we'll be out of your way," Ted managed, striving for a reasonable approach. But before Batista could say anything—if he was going to—another voice cut him off.

"Oh my God! What did he _do_ to you?" Cody suddenly burst out, half hiding behind Ted's larger form.

Batista just stared from one face to another, visibly trembling, his eyes watery and wide. He didn't know what to do… or well, he didn't know what John wanted him to do. There was no way John wouldn't have guessed at them coming here, he would enjoy it knowing he could use the encounter to mentally torture both parties.

Batista inwardly cursed. He just couldn't _take_ it anymore! The paranoia, constantly looking over his shoulder, searching for double meanings behind every word. Not to mention the physical torture, and seeing Randy brought it all back.

He had once been like that: strong, confident, positive he could somehow win. Randy didn't understand, like Batista hadn't understood. He and John's championship match didn't matter in the least. It was just a deadline made to make the victim rush, panic, and flounder. John always got what he wanted and the more twisted the getting, the better.

Still he hesitated, unsure what course of action would be best. What did John want? It was a thought that dominated his brain constantly eating at way at his morale until there was barely anything left of himself.

Batista focused on Randy's face, trying to ignore the flutterings of panic that shot through his body every few seconds. Randy looked angry, on edge, and more than a little crazed.

There's no way John would expect Batista to hold out, but maybe… maybe he could do something more. Batista knew a bit of information that John hadn't realized he'd let slip. Maybe, just _maybe_, Batista could help the man before him. Help save the dignity he had left.

Batista nodded resolutely. He'd decided. He would tell Randy what John would want him to tell, and a little something extra.

Slowly, wearily, he started to speak. "You… you should realize that by the time John is through with you, you'll be in no shape to win any kind of match. That's the goal, though his enjoyment in the game itself plays a big part. I was grateful he focused on you. Left me alone the last couple weeks."

"Couple _weeks?_" Ted asked hurriedly, one hand keeping Randy from stepping forward at the words that called this horrible business John was making a good thing.

"Yeah, he chooses his victims carefully, slowly eliminating possibilities. Then he takes a couple days to get his plans into place. How those plans turn out, decides what he does next."

Cody had, at first, paid very close attention to the big man still half leaning on the wall in front of them, but after a while of watching Batista's hands nervously twitch, Cody got bored and turned his attention to the room itself.

Slyly, he slipped back around the other two men, coming to a quiet stop at a table with what seemed to be a month's worth of mail-like scrap all over it. After a quick glance over his shoulder, to be sure the others were still occupied with awkward conversation, Cody began to quietly shuffle through the piles of papers. There were two envelopes—violently torn open—just beneath a few loose-leaf articles, one of which appeared to have something still in it.

Poor Cody was so busy satisfying his curiosity that he didn't notice the silence that had fallen over the room, or the fact that Randy had shifted his position slightly, thus revealing Cody's mischievous doings.

Batista, upon seeing where he was, let a shout and jumped frantically towards Cody, who screeched and, still holding the paper in his hand, instantly darted behind Ted with huge blue eyes. Once there, he quickly tugged the slip of _something_ from the envelope, hurriedly looking over at what he held, before Batista could push aside the other men and take it away.

"Hey, you look kinda like Heidi!" He exclaimed aloud, turning the square in his hand this way and that. "In a …scary, muscular kind of way."

Both men, who had been restraining Batista from attacking their youngest, instantly spun around, simultaneously exclaiming, "WHAT?"

Cody compliantly held the picture up, leaning forward slightly so that they could see. But both men—upon viewing the article in question—wrenched back with expressions of horror and shock.

Batista took this opportunity to shove forward and rip the shameful image from Cody's hand, holding it tightly to his chest, his face completely red.

"Was it Halloween?" Cody asked curiously, apparently not as disturbed by the picture as his partners. Like he saw big scary men in little dresses and blond pigtail wigs all the time.

"No it wasn't _fucking_ Halloween!" Batista shouted back, tears suddenly in his eyes. "It was that depraved evil lunatic, John!"

Cody's brows pulled together in a confused frown. "But why would he make you dress up like a girl? I don't _get_ it!" He whined.

"'CAUSE HE'S AN INSANE _FREAK_, YOU IDIOT!" Batista jerked forward, his arms raising as though to strangle the poor boy.

Ted immediately stepped in front of Cody, blocking the younger man from Batista's view. "Just chill out, man. We're all a little tense, I think," he said in his best calm-the-crazy-person voice, his hands raised in a peaceful gesture. Lord knows, he'd had plenty of practice at it lately.

He had a hard time getting the words out though, considering. Between the shock of what Batista had begun to reveal—which he truly didn't want to think about much—and the feeling of Cody's body pressed against his back, well... it really was lucky he could form any coherent thoughts.

As he watched Batista stumble away and slump down onto a stool, Ted saw Randy take a couple steps back. He waited to see what their leader would do next. It was almost comically hard to keep his mind in the here and now, even _with_ the horrifying craziness in front of him. All he could think about was Cody and his secret. Ted needed his head to be in the twisted game, so that they could win, but instead he just felt adrift. All because a certain someone wouldn't get out of his head, except… maybe he liked him there.

The certain someone carefully inched his head out over Ted's shoulder, like a cautious turtle peeking out to be sure it was safe, "I'm, uh… sorry 'bout whatever I said," he told Batista warily, feeling sort of bad for the poor man. Batista merely glared at him, before taking a deep breath.

"Just shut up and listen, you three. I'm not repeating any of this and when I'm done you guys are out of here, do not even _think_ of coming back!" Batista gave them all a threatening stare, and it was the most normal thing they had seen him do yet. But they processed his words, and moved a little closer to the man, faces tense, preparing themselves to hear what he would say.

"The man is a genius at strategy. He'll have you no matter what, either before the match if he can break you down, or you will be so terrorized that it will be a cinch for him to beat you. He has plans for his plans, he's maniacal and smart. And…" his voice faltered for a moment. "Well… uh, you don't want him to get you …he, uh, he has no limits or boundaries and uh… he's just a big weirdo and he'll do _stuff_ to you—"

"You mean like sexual stuff?" Cody piped up, only trying to help with the awkwardness that suddenly filled the room.

"Yes, _dammit_, am I not speaking English? Do you need some butt-fucking _diagrams_? What's _wrong_ with you?" He barked out, breathing heavily, his brown eyes filled with rage and embarrassment.

They had all flinched at the outburst, eyes huge, as they waited to see if he would say anything else. Batista's face fell into his hands and they figured that was all they were getting, besides they really didn't want to press their luck, The Animal seemed more than ready to crack and they didn't want be around when he did. But just when the three wrestlers turned to go, figuring the conversation over, Batista stopped them.

"Wait." His voice made them all halt in their tracks, glancing over their shoulders. "There's one more thing. Something I don't think he knows that I know. John never uses the same tricks twice. That's why my telling you _details_ wouldn't do any good." He winced at the word 'details', before taking a breath and continuing.

"What I'm trying to say is… he's not working alone. I don't know who, but he has someone. I'm not completely sure what this other person does, but my guess would be to spy, get you into your comfort zone and then leak all your information to John. Though I have no proof, I'm almost positive. If you find this someone, you'll have an Edge no one else had. Now scram."

With that he got up and walked towards Legacy, they taking a step back for each of his forward, before finally reaching the door and hurriedly leaving. Batista slammed it shut behind them and they could hear the clicks of the locks reengaging.

* * *

The walk back to their room was much different the second time around.

Before, they had been excited, ready to do battle, to win this sick game. Now, however, they had seen what could happen, they knew just how high the stakes actually were.

Nobody was really in the mood to talk about Batista himself, it was too appalling how changed he was. Instead, they discussed what they had learned, none of them actually saying his name.

Randy, above all, tried so hard to block it all out. He could feel the panic building up, regardless. It was more and more imperative that they find out who this supposed 'other guy' was, but they honestly had no earthly idea.

"It could be anyone!" Ted said, running his fingers through his hair with a frustrated growl. Cody put his hand on his shoulder sympathetically, the soft skin of his fingers pressing lightly into his bare collar bone. And just like _that _Ted was instantly in that place where the feel of Cody dominated and controlled his thoughts.

Randy shifted suddenly, causing the younger men to immediately glanced over, a bit worried at the "Oh my God" look on his face. They both watched carefully, as Randy inhaled gradually, still looking slightly stunned.

"There's only one way to find out."

Cody blinked, curiously. "How?"

"We have to break into his dressing room," Randy said gravely, his entire body tense, arms wrapped around his middle as his gray eyes glared at the tile of the locker room floor.

"You've… got to be kidding," Ted whispered, sounding thoroughly horrified. Randy shook his head slowly.

"Tonight, when we do the tag match. Both of us will be in the ring, and you two will already be done with your match for the night. It's the perfect time."

"But, but I don't _wanna _go into his room! What if he's got it booby-trapped or something?" Cody wailed, his blue eyes huge.

"Hey, I have to be in the freaking ring with him! I can't do anything when he gets all touchy-feely molesting man on me, the _least_ you two can do is go into the room when he's not even there!" Randy growled, teeth bared. "_Both_ of you will be going, so stop whining!"

Cody let out a sigh of relief at Randy's words, feeling much more relaxed knowing that Ted would be at his side, with a short shrug, he gave a small trembled smile in Ted's direction.

* * *

Randy paced back and forth anxiously, waiting for his name to be called and his music to play. The other three guys, which included John, that he would be facing were already out in the ring. All he had to do was his job, simple right?

Not quite so much when it took all of his limited self control not to scream "_He's trying to rape me!_" to the world and point at John, followed by running away like a five year old running from cooties.

He could do this, he had to. There was no way in hell he was gonna end up like Batista: a play thing with no dignity, respect… or butt cherry.

Randy just hoped the other two could handle the mission they had been given….

Suddenly, he heard his name being announced and it was time to put away thoughts of possible failure, and the groping that was sure to come. He stepped out onto the entrance ramp, and prayed he wouldn't get tagged in.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ted and Cody were currently creeping around the hallways, both men still sweaty and decked out in ring gear from their earlier match, chests still heaving.

"What are we gonna do if the door's locked? I don't know how to pick a lock," Cody asked worriedly, keeping a death grip on Ted's bicep as his eyes darted around slightly paranoid.

"I brought a credit card just in case, hopefully that'll work. If not …then we'll just have to bust the door open," Ted replied attempting to sound calm and wishing Cody wouldn't bump hips with him so much. It was very distracting, not to mention the feelings it aroused didn't help his currently stressed out nerves very much.

Several times, the boy had pressed against him when they thought they heard someone coming, and Ted could swore he could feel Cody's sweat on his own skin. That and the firm grip he had on his arm had him fighting to hold back highly unwanted reactions.

After what felt like an eternity, they made it to the door in question, and stood together outside it silently, feeling all the fear the man who owned it caused in them build up at the sight of it.

Finally Ted said softly, "Go, on, see if it's open." Cody frowned.

"Nuh uh, I ain't touching it! You do it!" Cody vehemently whispered back, glaring at the blonde. But before Ted could reply, another voice cut him off.

"Do I _want_ to know why you two dimwits are talking to a door?" A voice questioned, from somewhere behind them.

Both men jumped up, startled, and Ted was mildly annoyed when Cody rushed behind him, pushing him forward a couple steps as a human shield. "Take him! Take him! I don't wanna die!" He cried, and Ted's heart rate increased as he fought down the bile in his throat. He didn't wanna die! Or _worse:_ be molested by Mr. Lick Me Lemon!

Cody peeked out from behind Ted's broad shoulder, something he seemed to be doing a lot lately. Maybe he should get him a gift of some sort to compensate for always using him? Especially since the man in front of them turned out only to be the Miz.

"Seriously, what the hell are you guys doing?" Miz asked, as he shook his head, almost not wanting to know the answer.

Ted stood frozen, like that deer in headlights, his mouth opening and shutting a few times, but no words escaping.

It was Cody who came to the rescue before the silence could become suspicious. "We're making super special secret Legacy plans! We didn't want to chance someone listening in at our locker room, so we came here. Yep!" He informed rolling out the excuse like a trained liar, trying his best to look innocent.

Miz quirked an eyebrow. "Something around here is 'special' and it's not any sort of plans," he half-mumbled, a slightly freaked-out, but mostly annoyed look adorning his face.

"Oh I know! Wait… what?"

Miz just sighed. It almost wasn't worth the waste of a good insult, when the person you were insulting didn't even get it. Gorgeous faces and bodies aside, he was seriously starting to wonder about the mental health of Legacy.

He eyed the two men a moment more, "I think on the off-chance crazy is contagious, I'm just going to walk away and pretend this didn't happen."

"Okay! We'll see ya later, and thanks for thinking about our health!" Cody chirped, while waving good bye still in his 'pretend to be innocent' mode.

"Hey! I didn't mean—oh, whatever. I'm outta here," Miz grumbled, spinning on his heel and stomping away.

Ted and Cody stayed suspended in place until they couldn't see the other man anymore, then, with one more quick glance around to make sure no one else was in the general vicinity, Ted shoved Cody to the door in front of them.

"What the hell?" The brunette exclaimed, affronted as he bounced away from the door as if he'd been stung.

"_Ha!_ You've already touched it, now see if its unlocked," Ted demanded, with his 'I'm the oldest, do as I say' face on. Cody sent a pout his way, that was swiftly changed to a nervous glower as he took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob.

Both men held their breaths as he went to turn it, and in unison they let the trapped air out when it turned easily, just like any other door. Carefully, Cody pushed it open, expecting to see something truly horrifying, but instead it was nothing more than a nearly empty room with the usual table, chairs, and a suitcase on the floor.

"Okay," Ted finally said, after they had fully glanced around to be sure there were no obvious death traps. "We've got to be careful not to mess anything up. We don't want him to know we've been here." Cody nodded.

"Fine, but since I touched the door, _you_ have to go through the bag. I'll see if there's anything else lying around," Cody said peevishly.

* * *

On the other side of the building Randy was running like a crazed lunatic to their locker room. For someone who was known for making slow entrances and exits, this was pretty surprising to the backstage hands who were staring at him as he bolted past.

All he could think about was the huge goofy—yet nefarious—grin that had graced John's face the entire time they wrestled. His hands clutching at Randy's hips and legs. It was like the flashbacks of the other night. And it was pure luck he didn't vomit all over the ring his nerves were strung so tight.

Randy flew through the locker room doorway at record speed and in a flash had the locks twisted securely. He sincerely hoped Cody and Ted would be back soon. John would be out there for another fifteen minutes or so, shaking hands and posing for pictures, but despite this Randy wanted his boys by his side. _Now_.

With a thick swallow, he paced the small confines of the room, back and forth, as he listened impatiently for the sound of footsteps, absently nipping at his fingernails. It was during this frantic movement, that he felt something scratch against his lower back.

Randy froze, eyes widening as he immediately turned to try and find the cause of the irritating sensation. He went abruptly still, when he saw the bit of white sticking out from the top of his black trunks and, gulping, he ever so slowly grasped it with his thumb and forefinger and pulled.

It tugged free with no resistance, and he held it up to eyelevel to see it clearly. Upon inspection, it turned out to be a piece of paper folded in half, as small as a fortune from a fortune cookie. Randy stared at it in confusion, frowning. Only one thought going through his mind. How in the _hell_ did it end up in his Speedo?

* * *

Back in John Cena's dressing room, the boys were getting frustrated.

Cody had found a couple of random magazines and a bottle of water, but that was it and Ted was digging through the suitcase, carefully moving aside clothes and other items. It was hard not to mess anything up while making a thorough search, however, he didn't really know what he was searching for so it just sucked all around.

And just when he was about to give up, he opened the pocket on the outside and struck gold!

"Cody come here!" Ted beckoned, ushering the younger boy over.

As Cody walked the short distance and kneeled, Ted held up what he had uncovered.

"His cell phone?"

"Yep! Now lets see who he's been calling and what his text messages say, maybe we'll find something useful."

Both men leaned over the small electronic device as Ted began pushing buttons.

* * *

Randy, chewing his lower lip, apprehensively opened the small note, dread coiling in his stomach. He had a good idea who it was from. He closed his eyes and wished he could just crumple it up and throw it away, the note would only escalate the feelings of panic, but he had to know or the curiosity would eat away at him.

Glancing down, Randy gradually read the words scrawled across the paper, and his eyes grew huge, sweat forming across his brow, face turning scarlet, and mouth dropping open.

_What the FUCK?_

* * *

Ted and Cody grinned, having finally found the correct menu to get to John's text messages. The younger of the two scooted even closer to Ted then he already was in order to get a better look. Now they would find out who the spy in their midst was!

As they began to scroll through the messages, reading every individual line, Cody suddenly gasped, his eyes so huge they looked as if they were about to bulge out of their sockets. At Cody's sudden astonishment, Ted frantically followed his gaze, only to have the name of their betrayer glaring up at him in black letters.

He glanced over at Cody, who looked beyond shocked. "It's him." Cody swallowed hard, lower lip trembling.

"No way…" He murmured, he never would have supected it, or _who_ rather.

Ted merely shook his head, his eyes narrowing at the name that glowed on the screen.

* * *

Evil Cliffy FTW!


	6. Falling Apart

**Chapter Title: **Falling Apart**  
Disclaimer: **Sebastian says "OMG WTF" *smacks Sebastian* "Er, I meant WWE owns, not us!" good brain.  
**Warning:** It's going to be epic… The last line of this chapter made my other half go: _LOL. That's freaking AWESOME. I LOVE it. I read it and was like, "OHMYGOD! AHAHAAHAAA!"_

Oh yeaaaaa! ;D  
**Pairings:** Centon, Codiasi... so far  
**Author Note: **Thank you thank you everyone who has survived my crappy updating skills I wuuuuuv you all!

* * *

"That little _fucker!_" Ted's eyes were wide and his face was flushed in anger.

Cody could see the warning signs, sense the rage beginning to form, and he quickly pulled on his arm. "Come on, we need to let Randy know!" He took the phone and slid it back into the suitcase, making sure everything was as it was before.

Ted shook his head hard, knowing Cody was right… _in so many different ways—_the thought drifted across his mind.

"Not now," he murmured.

"What?" Cody asked, wrapping his arm around Ted's waist this time as he tugged him to his feet.

"Just... uh, you're right, we need to get back to Randy fast." This was reinforced by a glance at the clock hanging in the room, informing both boys that they didn't have much time before you-know-who arrived and without anymore delay they both hurriedly vacated the evil lair of the madman, sprinting back down the halls.

As they came to the door of their locker room, both men instantly began pounding on it, paranoia making their breath come faster and their hearts beat harder.

"It's us!" Ted cried out, realizing Randy might think they were an enemy. Sure enough, the door was instantly unlocked.

They immediately rushed in to find a strangely subdued Randy standing in front of them. He held something tight in his fist and his face was pale and drawn. Ted and Cody momentarily forgot about the important information they had just acquired, and the youngest of the two shot Randy a worried and confused stare.

"What's wrong?" Cody questioned, more that a little concerned with the morbid expression on his leader's face. But Randy didn't answer him, just held out what looked to be a small piece of paper.

Through a small semi-miraculous feat, Ted managed to actually grab hold of it before Cody could, the younger's big blue eyes staring at him, a pout on his face. Ted hesitated for a moment at the plump bottom lip that stuck out… but he quickly managed to come back to himself and the business at hand. Ted resolutely turned his back on Cody—also known as temptation and distraction—and directed his attention to reading the piece of paper he'd taken from Randy.

As Cody absently watched Ted read over the little slip of paper, he was only concerned with sulking his hardest, until he noticed the expressions crossing the blonde's face. If Ted's eyes got any wider, they seriously might fall out of head! Not to mention he now held the paper by just his thumb and forefinger, looking at it as though it was contaminated or something.

"What's it say? What's it say?" Cody immediately interrogated, practically hopping around the two men, not appreciating being left out at all.

Despite their youngest leaping around Ted gingerly handed the note back to Randy, who swiftly took it from his grasp and proceeded to shred it into tiny little pieces.

"But I wanna read it! What about me?" Cody wailed, desperate eyes staring forlornly at the minute little shreds as Randy let them flitter onto the floor, before promptly digging his heel into them in disgust.

Ted placed an irritated hand on his forehead, knowing Cody wouldn't be happy until his curiosity was sated. Unfortunately, the contents of that note was not something he ever wanted to speak of. EVER. He struggled to find the words.

"Uh… it was just John saying that, um—he, he wanted to dress, er… something of Randy's in Barbie clothes!" Ted stuttered and stumbled all over his words, practically babbling the last part out.

Cody cocked his head to the side, as if processing Ted's words, before shrugging. "I don't get it."

Randy just groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated torture as he slumped—neglected—to the floor, holding his head in his hands, eyes firmly closed as if trying to block out everything around him.

Ted swallowed hard and leaned closer to the younger man, whispering, "John said he was going to dress Randy's dick in Barbie clothes!"

Now it was Cody's eyes that got widely huge, his jaw dropping. "But… does that mean he travels around with Barbie clothes in his _bag?_" He gasped, looking positively astounded. Never having taken John Cena for a man that carried little girl accessories around with him.

Randy was _more_ than ready for a subject change, and got it instantly when he growled, "So did _you two_ find ANYTHING? Or did I just get mentally molested for _nothing?_"

Ted nodded slowly as if any fast movement would set the older man off and cause him to go even more psycho paranoid than he already was. Randy sat up straighter at Ted's affirmation, curious excitement momentarily replacing the dread from before. Ted opened his mouth to inform Randy of the identity of their little spy, but Cody beat him to it.

"IT WAS EVAN!" He cried out, eyes practically watering. "But he looks so sweet and I just don't understand it! I mean, he's so little and no one would even _see_ him, and… and what are we gonna do?" He finished almost incoherently, worried gaze darting from Randy to Ted and back again.

Randy gradually rose to his feet, his face morphing to a complete mask of impassiveness as he took it all in. All the times that Evan had been with them, and Cody had talked to him. Inwardly, he wondered how he had not realized it before, Evan had constantly been with them. He was obviously the culprit. Randy inhaled carefully, it was time for a plan.

Both men tensed anxiously as they waited to hear what their leader would say, practically watching the gears turning in his head. And finally, after a long while, he spoke.

"Ted, find a techie. We're going to need some duct tape," Randy ordered, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Cody, you're going to be _bait_," he finished, almost hissing the last word.

* * *

He wasn't quite dumb enough to do it out loud, but inside his head, Cody was whining up a storm. Walking up and down the hallways backstage, all he could do was hope that Evan hadn't left yet like so many other superstars had.

Randy said he would probably still be around since they were, and Ted had offered to help Cody be bait, but—of course—Randy had said no. Apparently it was hard to be bait when you had your bestest friend in the world standing behind you like some kind of bodyguard. Not to mention, it would be suspicious, since Evan really only talked to Cody when the youngest was alone.

"I'm bigger than him. I'm bigger than him," Cody repeated over and over under his breath in an attempt at sating his jumping heart. It wasn't helping though, all he could think of was this mental image of Evan all jacked-up on John Cena crazy-gonna-rape-power. It was definitely an unsettling image.

Ted had taken Randy's side about Evan being mostly harmless, which had slightly pissed Cody off because _hellooo_, he was Cody's Ted first! Ted was supposed to have _his_ back, not agree with Randy over himself! The two men claimed that if Cody acted like he had some great plan, Evan would be eager to find it out for his freak of a boss, and therefore, follow Cody anywhere in order to get information. Like a good little spy.

But first Cody needed to find him, and as cavernous as the backstage area was, well… he wasn't having much luck. He was starting to get frustrated, when he suddenly had an awesome plan!

Cody quickly dashed back to the locker room, thrusting the door open to see two very determined men poised at the ready to attack. One with a huge roll of duck tape, the other with a chair.

"Oh, no I don't have him yet guys!" Cody quickly explained, as they were both looking around wildly for the small form of Evan.

Randy dropped the chair, an annoyed expression crossing his face. "Then why the hell are you back here?"

"I just had the most _wonderful_ idea ever!" Cody boasted, spinning in a circle as he did so.

He waited patiently for them to ask about it and tell him how great and smart he was, but they both just stood there, arms crossed and faces set like stone, looking like to very displeased fathers. _Oh, fine! I guess it has been a long day_, he thought to himself.

"So I started looking for him, which sucked, cause I have no clue where he'd be and I realized something!"

"…Yes?" Ted inquired, after Cody paused and didn't seem to want to continue. Cody grinned.

"I have his phone number! From when we gave him a ride! I can call him and tell him I have bad service or something and say I wanted to know if they had a ride! Then _he_ will come to _us!_" _–and then I won't have to deal with him by myself._ But Cody left that last part out.

Both Ted and Randy hesitated, eyes wide, honestly surprised. That was… actually a pretty good plan. And from _Cody_ of all people! Who'd have thought?

Cody fidgeted a bit, as they both just stared at him with their mouths slightly open, brows raised. "What?" he finally muttered defensively, but they just shook their heads, still slightly in disbelief. After all, this moment was rare and took a while to get accustomed to. Cody wasn't as stupid as they had originally thought! He was more than just a cute idiot!

"So? Was it a good idea or not?" Cody finally demanded, frowning. " 'Cause, if you don't like it I guess I can just go back out there and _look_ for the creeper…"

Randy and Ted immediately shook their heads again, and gestured for him to follow through with his ingenious plan, very slight approving smiles on their faces. Cody beamed like the fourth of July at the other two, and finally, with a huge grin, pulled out his phone.

* * *

"Uh, guys? I'm starting to get a little worried here."

"Shut up! We're trying to think!" Randy snarled, turning his back on their captive.

Ted glanced nervously at the taped up prisoner. "So, uh… what do we do now?"

"We make him talk, duh!" Cody replied, with a roll of his eyes.

"But how? I've never tortured anybody before!" Ted exclaimed, looking a little squeamish at the thought of purposely hurting someone who couldn't defend themselves, and especially someone as small as Evan.

The three men exchanged weighted glances, waiting for one of the others to speak.

"I think I might have some scissors in my bag," Randy finally spoke up, sounding totally nonchalant, like he _hadn't_ just suggested that. He seemed unconcerned with the truly horrified look that crossed Ted's face, only to be followed by a slightly nauseous expression at the thought of cutting on somebody.

Ted continued to stare at Randy as though he had just told him Santa Clause liked to eat his reindeer, finally prompting Randy to finally shoot defensively, "WHAT? He wants to help the freak RAPE ME! Do you _not_ see a problem here?"

Quickly, Cody chimed in, "Can't we just make him smell Ted's boots? That seems pretty torturous to me! And a lot less bloody."

Ted, maturely, decided to ignore the slight on his feet and turned a hopeful glance towards their leader. He'd admit to having stinky-ass feet if it meant he wouldn't have to see Evan get pieces cut off.

Randy tilted his head to the side as he considered Cody's suggestion, before asking, "Can we slap him with the boot afterwards?"

"Of course!" Cody allowed, grinning.

"Okay then. You go get the boot, lets get this over with," Randy announced, cracking his knuckles absently.

It took barely a second for Cody to come bouncing back, boot in hand, and they all stepped over to the trapped man on the other side of the room, who'd been listening to their conversation curiously.

Cody's plan had worked like a charm, and they now had Evan ducked taped to a table that they'd stolen from underneath the ring, just before the crew cleaned everything up and put it all away. The table leaned against the wall at a slight angle, and because they had taped the small man to it while it was flat his feet were nearly a foot off the ground. Making it hard for any possible escape.

Randy stomped his way to the front of their little group, not stopping until he was directly in Evan's face. "We _know_ you're working with John, Evan. And if you know what's good for you, you'll tell me _everything_ you know about him _and_ his plans!" Randy threatened, his in-ring persona taking over ever so slightly.

The cheerful look that always seem to grace Evan's face sank for only an instant when Randy proclaimed him an accomplice of John's. He managed to paste it back on quickly enough, but the tension in his body told another story.

Always impatient, Randy was practically dancing in place as he waited for Evan to reply. "I don't know what you guys are talking about, and I'm not saying anything!" He finally shouted, defiantly glaring at everyone of them.

One of the scariest smiles to ever cross Randy's face suddenly formed, his sharp, tiny teeth emerging from his pulled back lips, like a bloodthirsty monster. Cody and Ted watched attentively as Randy moved even closer, boot at the ready.

"What do we do if this doesn't work?" Ted questioned in a low whisper, pressing his shoulder into Cody's.

"Uh, I don't know… tickle his feet? Twist his nipples?" Cody offered, missing the weirded-out expression on Ted's face as he watched their prisoner and leader intently.

"Remind me, to never let you tie me up and torture me," Ted replied dryly, without even thinking about what he was saying.

This was the wrong thing to say, however, since his mind suddenly began to descend into that dark place where sweat and moans took precedence over everything else. It took a concentrated effort to keep his face hopefully blank, as he tried to distract himself with the fact that "cruel and unusual punishment" was about to happen.

Evan struggled to appear unconcerned, but was failing miserably. He flinched when The Viper shoved the top of the boot towards his face, and it took a moment for his panic stricken mind to register exactly what was going on, as the stench permeated his senses.

"Oh my fucking _God!_ What the hell did you _put_ in there?" he screeched, positively horrified.

"Ted's foot!" Cody giggled, giving the man next to him a poke in the side, "told ya it was bad."

Evan's eyes went crossed as he frantically tried to turn his head from side to side, but Randy kept pace easily and he asked his questions again. However, all Evan did was shake his head back and forth and make gagging noises. These actions were halted when Randy let out a long low growl.

"Tell! Me! Everything! You! Know! Right! Now!" Randy slapped him across the face with the Boot-of-Doom after each word.

A bit of blood beginning to trickle from his nose, Evan looked incredibly frightened, but it wasn't enough. "You don't know what he would do to me! He's too powerful! No one is safe, _no one_ is immune! He thinks of everything, and he knows ALL!" Evan ranted, a bit of spit making it's way down the side of his mouth and looking all together freaking bat shit crazy.

"Get me the duct tape!" Randy barked at Ted, who scrambled to obey, trying not to look Evan in the eye.

Their prisoner suddenly gaped as Randy tore off a couple long strips and then proceeded to tape the stinky boot to Evan's face, ignoring Ted's outraged, "_Dude!_ _I use those boots, you know!_"

"Guess what, little Evan? You don't have to worry about John right now and we don't have to worry about you. Ya know why? Because you aren't going anywhere!" Randy declared ominously, gray eyes narrowed.

"That's it?" Ted wondered, confused as they had not learned anything.

"He's not gonna crack. What, did you want me to bring out the scissors?" Randy muttered, tossing the roll of duct tape into the nearest duffel.

"So, what are we doing next?" Cody questioned, pretending not to notice Evan's pitiful whimpers and teary eyes as he tried not to suffocate in the stench.

"What we should have done from the beginning," Randy replied, as he pulled out his cell.

* * *

Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door and Randy quickly jumped up to get it, ignoring the muffled noises Evan made on the far side of the room.

He came back an instant later with a brown bag in his arms which he brought to the floor with him. After a moment, Ted and Cody joined him on the ground, both men sitting cross-legged as they waited for him to open it, eying him curiously.

Both their eyebrows raised when he proceeded to pull out four different bottles of alcohol.

"Get drunk? _That's_ your plan?" Ted exclaimed, gaping at the older man.

"You have a better one… _Teddy_?" Randy hissed with a glare, he didn't wait for a reply as he shoved a bottle into Ted's hands.

* * *

"Whad'ya do to ma botshle, Cody?" Randy slurred, his head wobbling on his neck.

Cody leaned forward to eyeball the empty bottle in Randy's hand, before opening his mouth in an O, "Was Harry Potter here? 'Causth tha wasn' me, I sthwear!"

Ted let out a slightly crazed giggle, then slapped his hand over his mouth to keep others from escaping.

"Wha'so funny Fred, _huh_?" Randy hissed, lip curling as he clutched his bottle tightly.

Ted gulped audibly, the sound reverberating in the room, his eyes shifting back and forth rapidly. "I… uh, CODY DID IT!" He shouted in reply, pointing at Cody as he did so.

Cody blinked owlishly as two sets of eyeballs tried to focus on him. He took a swig from the bottle he had just stolen from Ted and said hesitantly, "So, er… how'sth yer butt cherry?"

Randy's eyes instantly welled up as he cradled his empty bottle to his chest, hugging it protectively. "It doesn' wanna meet John!" He wailed miserably, lower lip jutting out in a sobbing pout.

Ted immediately began clumsily patting his back and head in what he hoped was a comforting manner, as Cody leaned in for a much needed hug but missed, landing half in Ted's lap. He tried to push himself up but only managed to fall onto Ted's knee as he mumbled, "Wow Randy'sth a fasth one."

"He didn' even move!" Ted exclaimed, as he stared intently at Cody's lips which were currently mashed into his kneecap. "But, uh, really… what _are_ we gonna do?"

Randy flung himself backwards dramatically, arms wide, the empty bottle flying against the wall, the sound surprising Cody into an upright position. "There's notshing tha can ba… uh, _be_ done! You heards the people! John's gonna win!" Randy bawled, lips trembling.

Ted stared down at the ground disconsolately, not wanting to see their leader so defeated, so pathetic.

Cody. meanwhile, had been swaying back and forth slightly trying vainly to focus, when suddenly he sat a little straighter. He had the most peculiar look on his face, which had Ted gazing at him curiously as even Randy took notice and quieted somewhat, watching Cody with big, slightly red, eyes.

They waited breathlessly as a drunken smile spread across Cody's face and he said with not a hint of a slur, "Maybe we should rape him first."

* * *

**MUAHAHAHA!**

**Tell me you love me? o3o**


End file.
